


Forlorn Hope

by PowerfulTenderness



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Animal Death, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 14:47:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 35,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4629222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PowerfulTenderness/pseuds/PowerfulTenderness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events in D.C., Bucky tries to disappear. Despite not wanting to be seen by anyone, he meets you and your dog, and his life finally starts to make sense again. Bucky/Reader. Post-Winter Solider. Pre-Civil War AU. Discontinued.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1st Encounter:  October 15th

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is the first story I will be posting here! Any constructive criticism is welcome. Hope you enjoy!  
> Chapters will get longer as the story moves.

1st Encounter: October 15th

You frowned as you looked down at your phone, it was a quarter past six and it was already starting to get dark. You stuffed your hands back into the pockets of your jacket as you watched the mixed breed dog run around in the melting snow. As much as you wanted to go home and warm up, Dipstick had been cooped up inside all day, she needed to burn off some energy or you might find your shoes chewed up later. The black and white medium sized dog dropped a well used tennis ball at your feet and wagged her tail, making you laugh. “Where’d you find that?” Though you were unsure of its origins you still picked up the ball, glad you had gloves on, and threw it as far as you could.

 

The game of fetch continued on until Dipstick’s energy was well spent. You dropped the now moist tennis ball at your feet, intending to leave the thing behind, but Dip snatched it up again. After another round of this you just laughed and pocketed the ball, sliding her leash back in place now that you were heading home. As you stood straight you noticed a man in a black hoodie watching you. At least, you thought he was watching you, it was hard to tell with his eyes hidden but he looked to be facing your direction. Shaking off the eerie feeling, mostly due to the fact that you felt safe with Dipstick around, you turned to the path back to your apartment.

 

 


	2. 2nd Encounter: October 18th

You threw your dog’s new favorite toy as far as you could, smiling as she took off in search of the tennis ball. Your smile dropped, however, when Dipstick didn’t return in a few seconds. After a minute you started to call out for her, the park was dog friendly but technically she was supposed to be leashed, the last thing you wanted was to get fined. You heard a single sharp bark and picked up your pace to catch up to her. What you found made you sigh before rushing over to her.

 

“I’m sorry, she’s just overly friendly. I hope she didn’t bother you too much.” You said to the stranger as you bent over to pick up the ball she had dropped at his feet.

 

The hooded man just shook his head and reached out his right hand to pet Dipstick. She wagged her tail in response and leaned against him. You clipped the leash on her collar and smiled apologetically at the man again. “Come on, Dip, let’s go.”

  
Dipstick barked a farewell to her new friend before following you.  “ _Some guard dog you are, Dip!_ ” The whole reason you adopted her was to protect you, not to make friends with strange, slightly suspicious, men in the park! 


	3. 3rd Encounter: October 22nd

Sitting down on a bench you crossed your legs and pulled out a thermos full of homemade hot chocolate. Dipstick was running around chasing falling flurries of snow with vigor. The snow wasn’t too bad, just a light dusting every few days, but still most people chose to stay inside. Even park patrol would stay in the warm instead of patrolling deeper in the park. All this meant you could let Dip run further away without having to call her back immediately.

Just as you took a sip of your delicious hot chocolate Dip started barking excitedly. She only barked like that when you came home after being away longer than usual. You got up to see what she was barking at and of course she was sitting down in front of the same man from a few days before! You called out to her but she ignored you. The man bent down and picked up a tennis ball. ‘ _Where did she even find THAT?!_ ’ you sighed to yourself, jogging to catch up to her. Just as you were close enough however, the man threw the ball with what looked like ease but even a pro baseball player would be hard pressed to make that kind of distance! 

“Wow! What an arm!” You said to the stranger, who just looked at you, his hood still pulled so far over his face that you couldn’t see his eyes. Dipstick returned, wagging her tail like crazy as she dropped the ball by his feet. “Is she bothering you?” You asked, putting your thermos away and reaching for her leash. But the man shook his head and threw the ball again, Dip chasing it enthusiastically. 

“Oh. Ok.” With a shrug you decided to let Dipstick keep playing with the man. If he was fine running off her extra energy you weren’t about to complain. You clipped her leash back on your purse and pulled out your thermos again. This time you poured some of the hot chocolate into the cap and offered it to the stranger, “Would you like some hot chocolate. It’s homemade. It’s the least I can do for you being so nice to Dippers.” 

The man hesitated before taking the cap very gently with his left hand. His nod was so pronounced you could only assume that it was meant as a thanks. Perhaps this man took the don’t talk to strangers rule a little too literally? Whatever his case was, you stood in silence with the man, sharing your hot chocolate, as he kept playing fetch with Dipstick.


	4. 4th Encounter: November 1st

You jogged slowly, careful not to slip on any ice. Dipstick was running beside you, this was nothing but a leisurely stroll for her but you wanted to get back inside as soon as possible. The difference in temperature compared to just last month was drastic. You didn’t want to stand around outside for too long.

At the half mile marker you noticed a familiar figure sitting under a pavilion. So did Dipstick. She barked and pulled at her leash, trying to get to her friend. You tugged her leash, “No! Heel!” Dipstick slowed down and waited for you to catch up to her, sitting reluctantly. 

The man, no longer quite a stranger, either heard or saw you, or likely both, and made things easy for Dip by approaching. When he was in hearing range you smiled sheepishly at him, “I think she likes you more than me.” Of course he didn’t say anything, in the few meetings you had, he hadn’t uttered a single word. Like usual he just reached out and pat Dipstick on the head, scratching behind one of her ears. 

You looked at the man again a raised a brow. As the weather got colder, you added more layers to you attire. This man though didn’t seem to notice it was getting colder. He still dressed in a pair of jeans and the same black hoodie pulled over his eyes. You were beginning to wonder if this man was homeless. ‘ _Great. Dip, you would make me talk to a shady homeless guy…’_

Instead of saying anything rude, however, you cleared your throat to get his attention. “I’m sorry, but I’m not cut out for this kind of cold. Have a good day. Come on, Dip.” The man nodded once, putting his gloved hands back in his pockets. Dipstick whined a bit but followed you as you tugged her leash.


	5. 5th Encounter: November 1st

You averted your eyes to the ground when you neared two really shady looking men. They made Dip’s friend look like troop leader by comparison. Either way, the smart thing to do was to ignore them and continue on your way. It was too bad Dip didn’t think that. For whatever reason, these two men put her on edge, as you tried to pass them she started growling at them. Even though you tugged at her leash and shushed her, she continued to growl at the men, eventually drawing their attention. 

With a quick apology you tried to walk past the men but one of the men, in an oversized black and gold hoodie, stepped in front of you. “You ain’t see nothing,” he said as he got close to you.

“I didn’t see anything.” You said while attempting to sidestep him, he followed your step however and continued to block you. “How can we be sure, maybe we need a little...persuading.” His tone disgusted you, causing you to roll yours eyes and snap back at him. “Puh-lease! I hate cops as much as the next person here. I said I didn’t see anything, I ain’t see anything.” Despite the height difference, you stared the man in the eyes and held your chin up high. The time for playing meek passer by was over, if you didn’t get these guys to back off then something bad might happen.

Hearing you raise your voice Dipstick started barking. “Why don’t you make your dog shut up!?” Yelled the second man, who decided to also close in on you. 

You turned your glare to him, “She’ll shut up when you back off, so why don’t you get to steppin’?”

You squeezed your eyes tight and flinched as you saw the first man bring his arm up to hit you. You stumbled to the side a bit from the backhand, but refused to fall or to scream. In your stumble you dropped Dipstick’s leash, which you had been holding short to keep her close to you. She made such a snarl like you’ve never heard before and lunged at the man who hit you, tearing right through his hoodie and locking her jaws onto the man’s arm. He yowled out in pain and tried to pull his arm back, but the more he struggled the deeper her fangs tore into his flesh. You watched, hand on your face, slightly horrified as your sweet adorable dog turned into a vicious animal. 

The second man yelled something at you but your mind couldn’t quite process his words. The first man finally kicked Dipstick in the side hard enough for her to let go with a sharp whine. She snarled again, hackles raised and fangs glistening with blood bared. When the two men both started to kick and hit her you took action, moving behind the first man, the one whose arm Dip nearly ripped apart, and kicked the back of his knees. He fell forward, vulnerable to Dip’s jaws. She grabbed at the back of his neck and shook her head violently. His neck was only spared because Dip was only able to grab a mouthful of cloth from his large hoodie. Still the violent shakes were enough to scare him. 

_**BANG! BANG! BANG!** _

Without even realizing it, you let out a startling screech, tears streaming freely down your face as you saw Dipstick writhe in pain with blood slowly seeping out of her. One of the men had pulled a gun when you were busy keeping the other one down for Dip. The man turned the gun on you, “Shut the fuck up, bitch!” 

Though you clamped your lips together, you couldn’t help the hyperventilating that started. You saw the shooter open his mouth to say something else, but before he could get a sound out the gun he was holding was snatched from his hands and he was tossed onto the ground roughly. The injured man tried to run away but he too was thrown onto the ground with a heavy thud. You panicked when the new assailant turned to you, his long shaggy hair framed wild eyes that quickly went soft. 

Noticing that this man was the very man you had thought was a shady homeless man, you calmed down and rushed over to Dip’s side, holding back a whine when you tried to touch her. The man kneeled down and said his first words to you as he picked up Dip, “There’s an animal hospital three blocks from here.” 

He sounded calm but when he stood with Dipstick in his arms, he only waited a second for you to stand and start following him. He ran fast. So fast you couldn’t keep up. It wasn’t as if you were in terrible shape either and he still left you in the dust. Not that you really cared, all you wanted was for someone to save Dipstick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eep! Please stay with me!


	6. 6th Encounter: November 1st

“I don’t know! Just some man that hangs out in the park! Wears a hoodie!” You yelled at the policemen through sobs and tears. Eventually they sighed, handed you a business card, and told you to call them if you could remember anything more. You figured after you had told them that if they were any good at their jobs, you wouldn’t be in this predicament at all. After that they seemed glad to be done with you. 

Sniffling and trying to wipe away your tears you walked back to the waiting room. For a moment you almost panicked again. The man from the park was gone! 

“You didn’t tell them about me…” A quiet voice startled you from behind. 

When you turned your eyes were immediately drawn to his abdomen. He wore a black hoodie but still you could see the blood stains. You reached out, not even paying attention to the fact that the man went rigid from the sudden contact. As you bunched up the bloody material of his hoodie, not even looking directly at him, you nodded. “Yea...no, no offense. But you don’t, don’t exactly seem like the type of person who wants to talk to, talk to cops.” Your words wavered and stuttered as you tried to not start sobbing again. The man nodded, though you didn’t see it since your eyes were still glued to the bloody sweater. 

Somehow the man managed to move you so that the two of you were seated on one of the couches. The veterinarian's assistant had said that the surgery would likely take a couple of hours. It was probably best that he was around, otherwise you might have stayed standing in one spot all night. After a few hours the veterinarian stepped into the waiting room, looking exhausted and grim. “Are you Dipstick’s owner?” 

You jumped up and nodded, eyes watering before you even heard what he had to say. “I’m sorry, but-” You didn’t hear the rest over the heart wrenching wail that escaped you. You didn’t need to hear the rest. All you could do was fall back onto the couch and cry. After giving you some time, the vet returned to the waiting room, where you still crying but no longer in a catatonic stupor. 

“Miss (L/N), would you like to say goodbye?” 

Through teary eyes you nodded and stood up again, pulling the man from the park with you. Ever since you had seen the blood on his sweater, you hadn’t released him. It made it awkward to walk to the surgery room, and he was certain to be uncomfortable, but you couldn’t process any of that right now. 

The surgery room was cold, bright and shiny steel glinted, giving hint to the vet having cleaned up before asking if you wanted to come back here. The man behind you winced, his right hand flying to his forehead in pain. It went unnoticed. You finally let go of his sweater and rushed to the cold table where Dip’s body was lying. You leaned over the table and hugged Dip, crying into her matted fur. 

“It’s, It’s, It’s my fault!” You cried, shoulders shaking. “Some family with two kids and big yard wanted to adopt her. But I, I paid the agency twice as much for them to give her to me! If I hadn’t, then she would be running around with those kids, right now! She wouldn’t be...she wouldn’t be...” you couldn’t even finish your words, breaking down into another muffled wail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that a took a turn. I felt so bad when I saw y’alls comments cuz of the way I planned this. But I swear things get better. I think...maybe...I mean, hopefully...


	7. 7th Encounter: November 2nd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Dip, it had to happen though! D:

After you had finished saying goodbye to Dipstick (or rather, after the vet had decided it wouldn’t help for you to keep sobbing over her body), you left the animal hospital. You were attempting to dry your tears and snot with a wad of, at this point, well used tissues when the man from the park cleared his throat to draw your attention. You actually looked at him for the first time. His dark hair was grungy and shaggy, but still attractively framed his face. He was growing a beard, though it looked unintentional, like he just hadn’t shaved in a few days. And his eyes were such an intimidating blue you looked away instantly. “...Do you want me to walk you home?”

It only just occurred to you that it was three in the morning and probably wasn’t safe for you to be walking alone. You nodded and whispered, “Please.”

Since he obviously didn’t know where you lived, you led the way. No conversation passed between the two of you. Occasionally you would sniffle, attempting to hold in your tears, but other than that the walk was quiet.

When you reached your apartment building the man stopped, by the time you noticed you were several feet ahead of him. When you turned to look at him you couldn’t tell what he was thinking, he had pulled his hood back up, but you could take a guess what he was thinking. “C-could you walk me to my door?”

He was silent, again, and nodded. Climbing three flights of stairs you made it to your apartment. Each window had bars and there was quite a bit of trash and generally unwanted items discarded in front of people's doors. You even had to step over someone who had fallen asleep in front of one of the units, empty bottles scattered around the man. 

“You live here, alone?” With the way his voice was monotone, you weren’t sure whether the question was creepy or a concerned one. Seeing as he just saved your life hours before, however, you decided it was the latter.

“When I first moved in, I got a dog to protect me…” 

The man didn’t say anything and you turned around to unlock the door. Before you opened the door however, you faced him again. “I’m, I’m sorry. I cried all over you and asked you to walk me home and I don’t even know your name.”

His silence was long enough that you thought to repeat the question before he finally answered. “...James.”

You nodded, “Thank you, James.” You gave him your name and bid him goodnight and closed your door, locking and dead bolting it very quickly.


	8. 8th Encounter: November 18th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all of your support! Hope you enjoy the chapter!

It had been two weeks since you had been attacked and even if you were traumatized, you still had to work. Your boss had given you three days to recover, and you’d spent those three days locked inside your apartment, not even leaving to check the mail. After that you had asked a male coworker to pick you up and drop you off. Since your apartment was on the way to work, he agreed, but you were starting to feel bad asking him to drive you around. 

So you decided to get up bright and early today, Saturday, for some much needed shopping. By now you had eaten everything you had stored up, even that mystery can (which had just been chicken noodle soup). With determined resolve you dressed in several layers to combat the cold weather, yet when you got to your front door you stood there staring at the deadbolt. 

_‘Not even an hour. Not even. You can do it.’_

You had to psyche yourself up for a few minutes but finally you left your apartment. Thankfully you reached the little shopping center with nothing eventful happening. Fueled by this you strolled into a clothing shop when you noticed a large sign indicating a massive sale. Most of the marked down items were out of season. Flip flops, tank tops, shorts, stuff that no one was going to wear in this weather. Even if the bargain hunter in you wanted to snatch a cute tee shirt, you knew you just shouldn’t buy anything right now, not when you had to restock your entire kitchen. Putting the clothing sale in the back of your mind you left and made your way to the grocery store. 

The store was a little crowded with people wanting to get their shopping done early. Not that the crowd bothered you. You were, in fact, glad for the crowd. It meant that the chances for something bad happening again were less. People rarely committed crimes in front of others. Since initially you had only wanted to spend an hour out, you prepared a list. Following the list you filled your little handbasket. You even had to carry a carton of milk in your other hand since you had run out of space. That was your signal that you done shopping, you needed to be able to carry everything home, after all. 

After paying for everything you bundled up tight and headed home, telling yourself that you weren’t going to stop for anything. With silent prayers that nothing would happen on the way home you left the store, moving perhaps a little faster than normally. 

You set down one of the heavier bags as you waited at a crosswalk. When you looked up you saw _him_ and a slight panic washed over you. What was the social protocol here? _“Oh, hi there, James. Nice to see you. Ahaha, good thing you don’t have to save my life again?”_ Doubtful. 

The light turned green and you bent down to grab the plastic bag you had set on the ground, but by the time you straightened out, James was already at your side. Startled you stuttered a greeting and like usual he just nodded. “Uhm, I have to go.” But you didn’t move, your eyes had locked onto his abdomen, again. He was wearing the same sweater as he was when...there was still blood on it. The blood was faded, like he at least tried to wash it out, but you could still see it. 

It wasn’t until the movement of a car caught your eye did you realize you had been staring. “S-Sorry!” You mumbled and averted your eyes. He didn’t say anything but at least your blatant staring didn’t scare him away. Then again, considering he beat two men into the ground in record time, you didn’t think much actually did scare him. 

Surprisingly enough, he spoke to you. “...Would you like some help?”

“Huh?” You blinked at him, confused. 

He motioned to the groceries you were carrying. “Oh! Uhm…” You wanted to say no, that was polite thing to do since he had been going the total opposite direction as you, but at the same time you were feeling a little paranoid being alone. “If, if it’s not going to be a bother. I don’t wanna make you late for anything.” Was it a terrible thing to think that he most likely wasn’t needed anywhere where punctuality mattered?

James shook his head and held out his right hand. You noticed that he didn’t reach out to you to take the bags, instead expected you to place the bags in his hands. You weren’t sure if he was being considerate or if it were something else. Either way, you passed the heavier bags his way with a soft, “Thank you.” 

Much like the first time he walked you home, no conversation passed. You had the feeling he wasn’t the talkative type anyways. But still, for someone who looked so intimidating he was rather gentlemanly...sort of. Well, he offered to walk you home and carry your groceries, if those weren’t the actions of a gentleman then you’d never met one before. When, on the way home, a male in an oversized black hoodie came into sight you instinctively moved closer to James. If it bothered him, he didn’t say a thing. Nothing happened, of course. You were just paranoid...or maybe it was the fact that you were walking with a big scary man that the other man didn’t bother you. The thought made you look his way, only find he was already staring at you. A sheepish smile crossed your face as you stepped back to a comfortable distance that didn’t invade his personal space. 

When you finally made it to your apartment, James set the bags down in front of your door with a quiet goodbye. You had to raise your voice a bit to thank him as he was already walking away.


	9. -: November 22nd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the support everyone! So glad y'all are enjoying this.

With tomorrow being Thanksgiving, everyone only had to work for half a day. Ryan, who you had asked to drive you to work and home after the attack, stopped by your desk. You were rather proud that you had actually walked to and from work all week. So when he asked you if you needed a ride you just shook your head, “No thanks, I’m fine. I’ve got some last minute shopping to take care of anyways.” 

Your answer was sure to make him assume you had plans for Thanksgiving, when really, you didn’t. But you didn’t feel like having to deal with sympathy invitations. You weren't lying about going shopping though, you just weren’t going to be grocery shopping. 

Thankfully the little shopping strip was pretty much half way between work and your apartment. You stepped into the clothing store where you had seen a large sale over the weekend. You knew exactly what you wanted so the stop wasn’t very long. Leaving the store, you tried to convince yourself that it was the weather that had you shaking not your fear. You practically ran the next part of your trip, even the thought that you might slip on ice didn’t stop you from running. Your stop wasn’t long, however, and you were back home within half an hour. 

 

Bucky stared at the box on the table before him. He stood under the same park pavilion where you last saw him before the attack. It was a rectangular white box, with a little bump in the middle suggesting it was stuffed. What stood out the most, however, was what was written in black permanent marker on top of the box.  
"_To James...whatever your last name is, you know who you are.  
(This man saved my life. I would like to thank him. Please don’t take this if you aren’t him.)_"

With a bit of suspicion he opened the box. Inside was something black wrapped in plastic and another note stuck on that. _“Left the tags on with a gift receipt, just in case I got the size wrong.”_ Here the handwriting wavered, _“Thank you.”_

He stared at the note for a second before moving the note to the side and opening the package. Inside was a black hoodie similarly designed to the one he was currently wearing. He could tell, though, that it was of better quality. Bucky held up the sweater for a moment before placing it gently back in the box. He looked around with suspicious eyes before he removed his old hoodie and replaced it with the new one, removing the tags deftly. 

As he was getting used to the feel of his new hoodie he noticed another package inside the box. This too was black. Removing the plastic revealed a simple field jacket. He stared at that for a moment, too, before slipping it on over his sweater, letting the hood hang over the neck of the jacket. 

Before throwing the box away he pocketed the small note, feeling much warmer than he had in a long time.


	10. 9th Encounter: November 23rd

You tried to shake off the cold as you entered the train station. For five years now, ever since you had moved to New York, you would watch the Thanksgiving day parade. Since you weren’t with your family, this was the only tradition, so to speak, that you followed. It was always fun, but every year you forgot just how much you didn’t like waking up early to catch the train into the city, especially in the cold. Oh well, you would tough it out like always and in the end it would be worth it. 

When the train pulled up you followed the rest of the gathered crowd and stepped onto the train. Many people had the same idea as you, so despite being quite early, 7 A.M., there were still a lot of people and you rarely got a seat. However, you noticed an empty seat. In fact, there was an empty space around one man, like everyone was just instinctively scared of his aura. Seeing the man that caused this, however, made you smile. Partly because at this point you were starting to consider him a friend and partly because he donned a new jacket and sweater combo. 

You made your way over to the empty seat and sat down, making sure to train your smile so you didn’t freak him out. “Good morning.” 

James glanced at you and gave a small nod, quiet as always. He had his hood pulled up, as normal, but when he looked at you, you at least got to see his eyes for a second. He looked away and mumbled something very quietly. It took a moment for you to understand that he said ‘thank you’. You just nodded, certain that he saw the movement, and left him alone for the rest of the ride. 

When the train pulled into the right station, you let the initial rush pass before stepping off the platform yourself. What surprised you was finding James walking next to you. As you followed the crowd you almost lost sight of James, only to feel a light tap on your right shoulder. With a little surprised jump you looked to your right to see James, but he had both hands in his coat pockets. 

“Hm?” You raised a brow and looked around. 

James didn’t say anything, the man rarely spoke after all, but he turned slowly enough that you thought you should follow him. After some turns through back alleys though, you were wondering if you had made a smart decision. Just as you were starting to question the man’s intentions, he jumped onto an overhanging fire escape ladder. You couldn’t see him from where you stood, but you imagined he had a look on his face that said he expected you to do the same thing. 

Casually you walked under the ladder and stretched out an arm, when you didn’t reach it (obviously), you jumped. You were about three feet too short. Besides, even if you could manage to grasp the rusty ladder, what were you going to do? Dangle there? 

“Yea...No, I’m not a ninja. I can’t do that.” 

He made a motion for you to stand back and when you did, he grabbed the top of the ladder and pushed it down. It made a horrifying screech and such a loud bang that you jumped back even more with a high pitched squeal. You cleared your throat, hoping that the he didn’t hear you, and started to climb up the ladder, hesitant at first but you found it was pretty sturdy by the time you were half way up. As you neared the top, he offered his right hand to help you up. As soon as your hand clasped his he pulled you up with ease. “Whoa,” you couldn’t help but say as he set you down on the platform. _‘No wonder he took out those guys so fast. Remember not to piss him off...’_

You kept following James, occasionally he would help you just as easily as he had before. At this point, you were starting to think you could hop on his back and it wouldn’t even hinder him. Eventually you ended up in a parking garage, about seven or eight floors high if you had to guess. When you looked over a railing you noticed that on the ground was a whole crowd of people. “Oh cool. We’ll prolly get a really good view here!” You grinned and turned to James, who just nodded and leaned against the steel railing. 

Thankfully the top of rail was flat and wide enough for you to set a few things down. You rummaged through your purse and pulled out a plastic baggie and your favorite thermos. You poured hot chocolate, homemade again, into the cap and set it and the baggie of snacks between the two of you. When he looked at you, you just smiled.

 

Bucky glanced at you when you slid a few items towards him, only giving him a soft smile as an explanation. He’d seen the thermos before, it was the same one you had used when he met you in the park about a month back. He knew too that what was inside was delicious. When you turned your attention back to the where the parade would be, he reached out and took the cap full of hot chocolate. In fact, he made certain that you were thoroughly distracted before he even snatched a bit of the packed trail mix. 

As the parade started, he heard a quiet but excited gasp from his side. The smile that lit up your face, a little flushed from the cold, was different from the smiles you directed at him. Those were small smiles, with your lips still closed. He wasn’t sure if that meant you were scared of him, or if you were pitying him. For some reason the thought of your pity angered him. He didn’t need your pity! YOU were the one that needed to be saved and protected! 

Without realizing it, his hand squeezed a little too hard on the plastic thermos cap and it snapped in his hand. His eyes went wide as he grit his teeth when the rest of the steaming liquid spilled on his hand. With a mixture of anger and disgust he shook off his hand and growled, turning a glare at you. His left hand, which had been stretched out about to grab you, stopped mid motion as he looked at you. You hadn’t even noticed his anger. You were just smiling, even laughing, as you waved down at one of the floats. 

He slowly lowered his arm, his anger subsided, as he watched your genuine happiness from watching something so innocent. You gasp again, both hands fly to cover your mouth, muffling a strange giggle. He looked back at the parade, following your line of sight to a large balloon of some cartoon character he was certain he was way too old to know about. Movement at his side made him look at you again, and you’re bouncing with excitement, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You let out a shaky laugh, your hands falling from your face, as the balloon passed by. A few tears slid down your face, which you quickly wiped away. 

No other part of the parade brought out such strong emotions in you, but still he watched you more than the parade. How can you derive so much happiness, so much that you would cry? He knew it wasn’t something else making you cry. He’d seen you cry out of anguish, out of sadness...Why did it even matter?


	11. 10th Encounter: November 23rd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I probably could have included this in either the last chapter or the next, but I don't know, just felt like it deserved it's own chapter. So I'm updating rather quick after the last chapter. As always, thank you very much to everyone for the comments and kudos!

Somehow James had broken the cap to your thermos. He apologized quietly but you just shrugged it off and told him not to worry about it. As with all of your meetings since you had been attacked, he offered to walk you home. You accepted, of course, and fell into an almost uncomfortable silence. It wasn’t unusual for him to be quiet, but he kept glancing at you and quickly looking away when you turned to him. For a moment you thought it was because he _liked_ you, but he really didn’t seem like the type to easily harbor crushes. Finally as you sat down on the train you gave him a hard stare, “What?”

He had the gall to look at you like the question came out of nowhere. “What?”

You rolled your eyes with a laugh, “That’s what I’m asking you!” 

James shrugged, he actually shrugged! “I have no idea what you’re askin’.” 

“Fiiiiiine.” You relented and looked out the window, trying to ignore the looks he kept throwing your way.

After a few stops, just as you’d forgotten about his staring entirely, he finally asked his question. “You cried. Why?”

You stiffened in your seat, refusing to look at him and make eye contact. “Huh? When? No I didn’t.” 

“During the parade you cried.”

“Nope. Nu-uh. No I didn’t. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He chuckled. It was nice to hear him laugh, he was so serious all the time. “Why?”

You sighed and looked at him, “You’re not gonna let that go, are you?”

His blue eyes were dull, consistently melancholic, but there was a sparkle in them that you couldn’t bring yourself to deny. Still, you couldn’t look at him if you were to answer so you turned back to the window. “Milly Cat is just some silly cartoon I used to watch when I was a kid. My father was stationed at El Toro in California when the Gulf War broke out. At first, he was lucky and wasn’t sent over seas. He would go to the school or daycare most of the Marine kids attended and dress up in this Milly costume just to cheer up the kids whose parents were away.”

You cleared your throat and took a deep breath to stop the tears that had welled up. Sometimes reminders of your father were good, like Milly, and sometimes if you thought too much, they would quickly turn sad. “Anyways, he picked a Milly costume because it was my favorite cartoon. I liked it even more after everything my dad did. Seeing the Milly balloon just bought back all those happy memories of him.” You looked at him with a smile, “Just don’t make fun of me for it.” 

James didn’t smile back, he seemed to be thinking about your story a little harder than necessary. But still he shook his head, “Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.”


	12. 11th Encounter: November 23rd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been Loki’d! I sat down at my Pinterest board full of Bucky, for my dose of inspiration, and somehow Loki popped up! So I tried to ignore him, but no one can just ignore Loki! But I finally managed to focus back on Bucky,

Things had returned to normal after you answered him on the train. No conversation passed, but at least that semi awkward silence was gone. Since James had a habit of turning around as soon as you reached your door, you cleared your throat when you got to your floor. “If you don’t have any other plans, would you like to stay for lunch?”

His steps actually faltered for a moment and you hurried to clarify. “It, it’s nothing fancy. Just frozen pizza and fries. I’m not gonna make an entire Thanksgiving feast for just me…” You added both as an afterthought and to reassure him that he wasn’t going to be meeting anyone new, wasn’t going to be meeting your family. 

To your surprise he actually nodded. You smiled at him as you unlocked the door and motioned for him to follow. “Great!”

After you locked the door you started to shimmy out of your various layers of winter clothing. First your jacket, followed by a wool flannel lined hoodie, and a simple sweater. Underneath all of that, you still wore a long sleeved thermal with a tee shirt over it. As you bent down to unzip your winter boots, you caught an odd expression on James’ face. In fact, it was the only expression you’d yet to see on him other than blank (well, other than wild attack mode, but you weren’t going to count that). “What?”

A small smirk tugged at his lips as he removed his field jacket, “When you said you weren’t cut out for the cold...”

You let out an embarrassed chuckle as you dropped your boots by the coat hanger, “Yea I was _not_ kidding.”

The apartment was small. There was an open space, filled with a three seater couch, and old coffee table and a old television sitting on top of a wobbly TV stand. Some feet behind the sofa a raised counter divided the living room from the kitchen. You waved your hand toward the couch as you stepped into the kitchen, “Take a seat.”

You only spent a moment in the kitchen, just long enough to grab a pizza and some fries out of the freezer and to flip on the oven. But you took that opportunity to duck into your room, just off the side of the kitchen and living room, to change your socks. You traded the thick winter socks for pink fuzzy, comfortable, socks. 

As you joined James in the living room you snatched the TV remotes off of the coffee table, “My oven takes like fifteen minutes to heat up, so, I hope you don’t mind watching the game?” 

He didn’t answer so you looked from the TV to James and followed his line of sight. He was staring at the dog crate that was in the corner of the living room. It was still filled with chew toys, food bowls and a dog bed. You swallowed thickly, trying to hold back tears at the reminder. “Y-yea, I can’t, can’t bring myself to get rid of her stuff yet.” You still woke up some mornings and grabbed Dipstick’s leash for her morning walk.

If you kept staring at Dip’s things you’d start to cry, so you took a breath and turned your attention back to the TV, flipping through the channels until you found the football game. 

When the oven buzzer went off, James suddenly jumped to his feet, making you jump in surprise from the sudden movement. “It’s just the oven,” you tried to calm the man, standing slowly and gesturing towards the kitchen. 

James winced and brought his right hand up to his forehead. 

“...Are you ok?” 

When he didn’t answer you, you took a step closer to him, “Uhm...maybe you should sit down?” 

He looked down at you, being a bit taller than you, through wincing eyes before taking your advice, cradling his head in both hands. You slowly reached for the remote again and muted the TV before leaving him alone in the living room. 

 

Bucky twitched at the sound of soft, hesitant, footsteps approaching. He had to force himself to remember where he was, _when_ he was. 

“...Hey,” a quiet voice made him look up through his fingers. You were kneeling down by the coffee table, where you had set a white medicine bottle and water down. He knew, he could tell, it wasn’t a coincidence that you were out of arm reach. You didn’t know that it didn’t matter though. If he wanted, if provoked, no matter how far you were, he could kill you. 

“Tylenol?” You asked, shaking the bottle of medicine lightly. He lowered his hands slightly, eyeing the medicine bottle then you, trying to determine if you were telling the truth. What kind of woman let a strange man into her apartment? No sane woman would, not unless she had an agenda.

“It’s just a pain killer, I swear. I always have some, you know, for cramps…” 

His brows furrowed at your words. The statement was ridiculous. He didn’t want to hear about a woman’s cramps! He watched as you took shook the bottle gently, the pills rattling around inside making his eyes narrow. You popped the cap and dropped two pills into your palm, flipping them right side up so he could see the imprint on the pills. What you did next surprised him. You leaned your head back a little and swallowed the pills, taking a sip of water to help. “See, just pain killers.” 

You then dropped another two pills into your hands, but set them on the coffee table. Without another word you stood, keeping your distance, and walked away. He watched you enter the kitchen, going about your own business like nothing had happened. Of all the thoughts that ran through his mind, he kept coming back to one question. Why?

You sat on the kitchen counter pretending to be occupied with your phone but really, you were straining your ears for any kind of movement. Your time with your guest had an unexpected turn. All because of a kitchen timer. You had placed the frozen pizza and frozen fries in the oven but decided not to use the kitchen timer. You would just keep on eye on the time. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You were startled at the sudden voice, jumping off the counter with so little grace that you ended up knocking your hand against the oven. “Jesus Christ!” You yelled, right hand over your heart, left hand shaking to get rid of the pain. Well, at least you’d already taken some painkillers…

Looking back to your guest you raised both eyebrows, how the hell did he get all the way to kitchen without making a noise? He returned your surprised look, blue eyes slightly wide out of concern. “Err, sorry…?” He apologized again, this time for scaring you. 

As you calmed your breathing you noticed the corners of his mouth start to pull up. You narrowed your eyes and pointed at him, “Don’t laugh at me!” 

Your little outburst did not stop the low quiet chuckle that escaped him, to which you just pouted and turned around to check on the food. At least he wasn’t freaking out anymore. You weren’t quite sure what you would have done if he hadn’t calmed down. 

“Well, the food is done.” You said as you set the pizza and fries on the counter.

Quickly enough, especially because it was still hot, you cut the pizza into slices as equally as you could. Your guest didn’t say anything, he just stood on the other side of the counter as you moved around in the kitchen. You grabbed two plates, two bottles of water, and set salt and ketchup on the counter near the food.

“Help yourself,” as you moved past him to the living room, you gave him a wide breadth. 

James was quiet, again, and remained near the kitchen longer than getting a plate warranted, but you didn’t even turn to question him. Not until he spoke up with a question. “...Why?’

“Huh?” You turned, craning your neck a little to get a look at him from your spot on the couch.

He hadn’t moved from his spot, “Why are you acting like nothing happened after I…” 

Oh. He really liked that question, didn’t he? You just shrugged, turned back around and unmuted the television, “You saved my life.”


	13. 12th Encounter: November 30th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks so much for the comments and kudos!

“I swear Ryan, I’ll be fine.” You heaved an exaggerated sigh, hoping to enforce the message that you didn’t want a ride home. At this point he was becoming so insistent that you were starting to wonder if he was the right choice to ask for help after the attack. It had made sense back then, he was the only one who passed by your apartment on the way to work. At the same time, you didn’t want to be rude or short with him. He had, after all, helped you while you were going through a difficult time. 

You only left the office after you were certain Ryan wouldn’t catch you walking through the parking lot and offer another ride. Besides, you were due for another trip to the grocery store. 

As you walked up to the double automatic doors your eyebrows shot up for a second before you relaxed and smiled, waving to the man exiting as you were entering. James had in his hand a single bag. He looked at you and gave you his signature single nod before you walked past him into the store. You were quick with buying your things, you had noticed on your way to the store that the snow was starting to pick up. Walking through a snowstorm was no fun. 

You didn’t expect for James to be waiting in front of the entrance when you walked out. “Hi,” you greeted once you were close to him. He pushed himself off of the pillar he had been leaning against when you approached him. “Should I walk you home?” 

“Uhm,” Despite not giving an immediate answer, you couldn’t help the small smile that crossed your face. You just hope that your scarf hid it well. “It’s starting to snow pretty hard. I don’t want you to get caught in a storm just to walk me home.” 

“I’ll be fine.” 

You were still a little hesitant but you nodded, “Well, if you’re really sure…” 

The storm picked up quite a bit on the way home, so much so that you ended up walking behind James to block the wind and snow. Like the last time he walked you home, as soon as you were at the door, he set you grocery bags down and turned to leave. Not that you could blame him for being in a hurry. “Ah, wait! James! Why don’t wait out the storm here?”

He didn’t say anything, and with the way he pulled his hood up, you couldn’t see his eyes. It reminded you of how you thought of him when you first met. Only this time you knew better. Sort of. You still weren’t sure whether or not he was homeless, and he may seem a bit shady, but now you knew, just knew, that you could trust him. 

“Come on, I’ll make you a nice hot dinner?” You offered with a hopeful smile. 

He looked away from you, you assume at the heavy snowfall, then back to you with a nod. He followed you inside and set the groceries down on the counter. You excused yourself quickly to change. Even if you did have a guest, you weren’t about to spend all night in your work clothes. You threw on a simple tee shirt and a large gray USMC sweatshirt, black sweatpants and purple fuzzy socks. The winter might be the source of terribly harsh weather, but at the same time it was the perfect excuse to dress comfortably. 

When you emerged from your room you saw that James had moved to the living room. “You can watch whatever,” you said as you started to put the groceries away while trying to decide what to make for dinner. Most of the time it was simple and if you wanted something warm you would throw something in the microwave. But since you’d offered to make a hot dinner you supposed you had to put a little more effort into it. After checking what ingredients you had on hand, you decided to make chicken alfredo. Not a terribly difficult dish to make, but still kind of impressive. 

You heard the TV switch on as you set a pot of water to boil for pasta. As you seasoned the chicken cutlets, you could hear James flipping through the channels. He passed up one of the shows that you normally watch, but considering how violent it could get and how he reacted to your kitchen timer on Thanksgiving, you thought it was best that he didn’t decide to watch a show about the apocalypse. By the time you moved to the saute pan, he had stopped flipping channels. Over the sizzling of the butter and chicken you strained your ears to hear what he had decided to watch. Apparently something on PBS about dinosaurs. Not quite what you would have thought he would watch, but who doesn’t like dinosaurs?

_‘Something...Spinosaurus...conical tooth…_ You weren’t really trying to pay attention to what was on TV but as you removed the now cooked chicken from the pan, and the sizzling quieted, you caught a bit more snippets of the documentary. You added heavy cream and cheese to the pan, allowing it to reduce as you drained the noodles and cut the chicken into bite sized pieces. Done with that you added a bit more seasoning to the sauce and tossed everything together. 

You could tell that the show was wrapping up by the music playing. Just in time. With a bottle of water in each hand and two plates on the inside of you left your arm, you called out to James and made your way to the living room. “Hope you’re not a vegetarian.” You smiled as you set a bottle of water and plate down on the coffee table in front of him. 

Unlike James, who had perked up and started to devour the pasta as soon as you set it in front of him, you sat back and watched the commercial, letting your food cool down a little. He was eating so fast that the fork clattering against the glass plate made you look at him again and raise a brow. “Don’t burn your mouth…” Really, he didn’t even spend a second to blow on the food before he took a bite. He just grunted, didn’t even take the time to respond properly.

“Well, I guess that means you like it..?”

James paused this time, at least for a second, “It’s swell, doll.” 

You gave a quiet laugh. “Uh, thanks.”


	14. 13th Encounter: December 1st

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update because I don't know when I'll have the opportunity to sit and write again. Don't worry too much, I have the next few chapters written out, but I'll be staying with my sister for a while to help out with her new baby and she doesn't have internet. Dunno HOW she lives w/o internetz but I'll post another chapter when I get home. As always, thanks so much for the comments, kudos and support!

Bucky woke with a start. He didn’t know where he was. There was something tying his feet together! He kicked up, dropping to the floor and getting his feet underneath him quickly. His weapon! Where was his weapon? He took a quiet step back, trying to figure out where he was, and he bumped into something solid. Turning on heel, ready to strike at his opponent, he was met with empty air. The back of his leg had bumped into a coffee table...A coffee table? 

Eyes now more adjusted to the dark, he looked down at what had been binding his feet. A blanket. With a sigh he ran his right hand over his face. Right. He had taken shelter at that woman’s apartment while it was snowing. It was still snowing when she admitted that she had to go to sleep, just in case she had to work tomorrow. What time was it?

He looked around the apartment, looking for a clock but couldn’t find one. Why doesn’t she have any clocks? Finally he made his way to the kitchen, where he could make out a faint red light from the ovens digital clock. It read 3:42….but he looked above the oven at the microwave. The little green numbers on the microwave read 4:42. He sighed. Well, either way it was late.

Silently Bucky moved to the window to check if it was still snowing. It wasn’t. The dirty streets and sidewalks around this place were covered with a thick layer of fresh snow, making it look nicer than it really was. He closed the curtains and walked over to the door that led to her bedroom. He raised his hand ready to knock but stopped himself. Part of him didn’t want to wake her, not everyone could handle living on little sleep. He had gathered that she didn’t drive, as she was always walking everywhere when he ran into her. She couldn’t afford to be unaware in a neighborhood like this…

He sighed again and returned to the couch. With nothing else to do, he laid back down and covered himself with the discarded blanket. It wasn’t long before he was asleep again. It had been a long time since got so much sleep. 

A few hours later he woke up, not in a panic this time, to the smell of bacon and eggs. Perhaps the key waking up peacefully was food? Groggily he stood up and moved to the counter, rubbing the sleep from his eyes he cleared his throat, since you hadn’t heard him move. “What time is it?”

You turned to him with a smile, “Morning. It’s almost eight.” 

He glanced behind you at the oven and the microwave. The oven read 8:51 and the microwave read 9:51...You seemed to have guessed what he was thinking and chuckled, “Oh yea. They’re both wrong. I can’t figure out for the life of me how to change the clock on that old ass oven, and for some reason if you change the clock on the microwave, it changes the power setting too…” 

Bucky looked around the apartment again, as you went back to cooking breakfast, to see if he had missed a clock in the darkness. He hadn’t. “You don’t have a clock.”

The chuckle that you let loose made him raise a brow. “I don’t need one.” For a moment, the Soldier inside of him thought it was some sort of threat. Highly trained assassins can keep track of time without, they even controlled how long they slept so that they never lost track of time. “You must be older than you look,” his eyes narrowed, his muscles tensing ready to attack. “Kinda only older people look for clocks, like they forget or just aren’t used to checking their phones.” 

His brows furrowed, what? You motioned to the cell phone on the counter. He just stared at you as you started heating up some tortillas. He cleared his throat again, “Say, where’s the restroom?”

You pointed to the left, “Through my room.” 

As he moved through your room, he tried not to look at all of your stuff. It felt like an invasion of privacy, but he was trained to be observant of his environment. Your bed, a queen size, was nestled into a corner was covered in dark blue sheets and had a few blankets piled on it. It wasn’t made. Next to the bed was a night stand with various trinkets thrown on top almost haphazardly, but he could see the sense in the mess. You could probably find everything on it with ease where a stranger would have to look carefully. A half open closet with a white bifold door was off to the side and finally the only other door in the room had to be the restroom. 

Bucky took a moment longer to stare at himself in the mirror. He hadn’t shaved for the better part of a month, by now he had a short but full beard. His hair hadn’t grown much since he woke as the Winter Soldier, it reached his shoulders but since his bangs hadn’t caught up with the rest of his hair, it created a chopped layered effect. Even he thought it looked greasy and needed a wash. With a sigh he washed his face and ran a little water through his hair, slicking it back. 

With nothing more he could do about his appearance he walked back to the kitchen. As soon as he walked out of your room, you moved past him, saying you had to get ready for work and that there was some food on the counter for him. It didn’t take long for him to eat the breakfast burrito you had made for him, which he washed down with the glass of orange juice. 

When you came back out of your room, you were already throwing on layers of sweaters, “I have to get going in a few minutes.” You said as you sat down on the couch, noticing how well folded the sheet and blanket you had lent James were, so you could pull your boots on. 

James followed suit and pulled on his boots and jacket, he was ready before you were. But, you told yourself, the big guy didn’t need to wear as many layers of clothing. Even after five years you weren’t quite used to the cold winter weather. He was probably born, or raised, in New York. As you left the apartment and locked the door, you didn’t ask if he was going to walk you to work and he didn’t offer. The two of you just fell into step with each other as you trekked the five miles through snow and ice to your office.  
Just as you were about to cross the parking lot, someone called your name. Both you and James turned at the voice. “Oh, morning, Ryan.” You said as he jogged into hearing range. 

Even though you didn’t say anything, or even acknowledge it, you noticed James step close to you as Ryan approached. You were kind of flattered that he was taking his impromptu job as your protector rather seriously. Ryan looked at James and narrowed his eyes, “Who is this?”

“Uh, this is James. He’s a friend. James, my coworker, Ryan.” 

“I think we’re a little more than coworkers,” Ryan said as he reached for your arm. You panicked, not because you were scared of Ryan, but of what James might do. You quickly put your other hand on James’ extended arm to stop him from hitting the other man. “Come on, we’ll be late. You shouldn’t hang around guys like this anyways.” 

“Ugh!” You immediately pulled out of Ryan’s grasp, stumbling a bit back into James. “Chill out, like I said, he’s a friend. Don’t be rude.” 

“He looks like a dangerous hobo.” 

You felt the warmth behind you leave and you turned around to see James walking away. “Hey! James, wait!” 

He stopped but didn’t look at you, “He’s right.”

You huffed, “He’s not right, he’s an asshole. James! James!” You tried to yell after him but he just walked away. 

With a sigh you turned back towards the office and glared at Ryan, who tried to put a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t touch me!” You batted his hand away, angry at the man for making James leave like that.


	15. 14th Encounter: December 16th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the comments and kudos all! Over 200 kudos! :D thank you so much everyone! Hope you enjoy this next chapter.

It had been two weeks since you last saw James, after Ryan had scared him away. Well, you doubt James had actually been scared away, but it looked like Ryan’s words struck a chord with the mysterious man. You had been outright avoiding Ryan ever since. You’d get to work early and hide in the ladies’ room, where you also hid after work until you thought he was gone. 

Well, at least you didn’t have to deal with that for the weekend. It was very early into Saturday morning, you had a habit of waking up for midnight snacks when you were stressed. So you sat on the counter eating a bowl of your favorite sugary cereal and occasionally dunking cookies into the cereal milk.

_**BOOM!**_  


You jolted from the sudden loud impact at your door and nearly choked on a spoonful of cereal. As you hit your chest to help get over the coughing fit another thud, much softer this time, hit your door. “The hell...?”

Cautiously you jumped off the counter, trying to keep your footsteps as quiet as possible. Thankfully those bright baby blue fuzzy socks helped muffle your footsteps. By the time you got to the door there was another, even softer, thud that made you look through the peephole with curiosity. It was so dark outside that you couldn’t quite make out who it was that was leaning against your door, but there was definitely someone there. After a few more seconds of studying the figure you made out long hair and gasped, quickly opening the door, but leaving the chain lock on just in case. “James?”

He made some kind of noise, something between a cough and a gurgle, before talking. “...S-say, doll, d-don’t suppose you could let a fella in for a spell?”

“Oh my God! James!” you yelled as you unlocked the door and let him in, letting him lean against you instead of the door. You glanced down at where his left hand, which was either covered in an oddly tight fitting silver glove or was actually a metal hand, and saw blood seeping through his shirt. You led him to the couch, thankfully it wasn’t very far from the door, and helped him sit down. 

After setting him down on the couch, you quickly turned to close the door, stopping for just a second when you noticed a small duffle bag outside. You picked it up and tossed it next to your coat hanger as you locked the door. You flipped on every light as you rushed through the kitchen to get some warm water and to your bathroom where you kept your first aid kit. 

When you made it back to the living room, setting everything down hastily on the coffee table, James was leaning back against the couch and breathing shallow. Carefully you moved to him, putting a hand softly on his left arm, which was still gripping his side. He winced and tried to brush your hand away, “I’m fine.”

You narrowed your eyes. He couldn’t just disappear for two weeks and show up like this and expect you to just walk away! “If you were fine, you wouldn’t be bleeding all over my couch.” You said sharply, pulling a little harder on his arm. He looked at you with a soft glare, but relented. 

You bit back a gasp when you lifted his shirt, there was a large puncture wound in his side. “You should really go to a hospital.” 

“Can’t.”

“Of course not.” You said with a slight roll of your eyes as you let go of his tee shirt and moved to gently remove his sweater and jacket. Getting his left arm out of the layers was easy enough but as you moved to the right side he hissed in pain. Which you just ignored as you removed both layers, throwing the winter garments to the side. James grunted when you started to lift his shirt again, “Can you lift your arm?”

After a little struggle you finally peeled the tattered shirt off, your eyes immediately flickered to his left arm. It was metal. Metal. You had a gift for compartmentalization and locked that away for another time. He was sort of bleeding out in front of you, after all. You turned to grab a hand towel and soaked it with warm water, wringing it out before starting to clean the largest wound, now that he had his shirt off you saw quite a many, at his side. He took a sharp breath as you touched the tender flesh. Even if he was strong, a stab wound, as it was apparently, still hurt. 

As you worked on cleaning off blood and grime, you cleared your throat. “I used to volunteer at one of the VA clinics in Georgia.” You switched to a new, clean, towel and motioned for his left hand to hold it over the wound. “About six years back. I was living with one of my dad’s old military buddies.” You started cleaning the minor scrapes, aware that instead of focusing on his wounds, he was staring at you. You were glad that your story was distracting him, especially because you were now moving closer to his left arm.

You had to sit next to him on the couch as you cleaned around his metal arm. There were various scratches along the scar that joined his flesh with the metal. A single glance at his right hand confirmed that there was matted blood on his finger tips. Had to tried to claw his own arm off? “I met a woman there. She’d been a medical officer in Iraq-” 

Before you could finish your thought he interrupted you. “Did you help her?” 

You looked up at him for a second, there was a desperate eagerness on his face that made your heart ache. Like he wanted you to help him too. You turned around to wash out the towel before going back to the task. “I tried to, as best as I could. I’m not a doctor though.” You started cleaning the claw marks at the back of his arm, “One of the ways she coped with everything she’d been through was to focus on what she really loved. She liked teaching. One of the kindest people I’ve ever met,” even in the situation you were, you smiled fondly at the memory of your friend.

“Then why’d she join the military?”

You let out a short, quiet, laugh. “Would you stop interrupting me?” 

James straightened out, unaware that he had been leaning towards you as you were talking, and apologized. “It’s alright. Her mother was a journalist who fell in love with an Iraqi activist. They were both killed by an IED. After that she joined the Army. Anyways, she liked to teach right. And she, for whatever reason, decided that I was helpless and she couldn’t stand it. She taught me a lot of things, among them, first aid. I’m not certified, of course, but,” you turned and cleaned off your hands. “Lucky for you I’m still pretty decent.” 

You took a fresh towel and soaked it with a little hydrogen peroxide and started to disinfect the smaller wounds. “What happened to her?”

“She became a teacher. Teaches first grade, I think.” 

James was silent and had that look on his face like he retreated back into his thoughts. You didn’t mind, as long as he wasn’t struggling while you were trying to patch him up. Finally you moved back to the stab wound at his side, having to kneel down in front of him, “Move your arm a little.” He just did as you said. 

You frowned as you got a better look at the knife wound. You didn’t have anything to stitch him up. The closest thing you had were butterfly bandages. Deciding that it would just have to do, you splashed a little more hydrogen peroxide on the wound, making him jump a little, though he remained silent, and cleaned it off. You applied five butterfly bandages to the wound and covered that with a gauze patch. 

You cleaned your hands again and soaked another towel in the, now, lukewarm water. You sat next to him again and put a hand on the side of his face and turned him towards you. “It doesn’t look like your nose is broken.” You said as you began to clean the blood off of his face. His bottom lip was split, however, and he had a black eye. The right side of his face was a little swollen too. You tried to be as gentle as you could while you cleaned up his face, but you still saw him wince a few times. Beides, the way he was now staring at you made you a little nervous for some reason. 

Now that you were done patching him up completely, as well as you could, you handed handed him some Ibuprofen, “Here, you should take these.” Unlike the last time you tried to give him medicine, he didn’t question it. He just swallowed the little pills and took a sip of water calmly.


	16. 15th Encounter: December 16th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks everyone for kudos and comments! i really love reading them! makes me happy to see how much others are enjoying this! Here's a kinda short chapter, hope you like.

Bucky woke up with a deep breath, wincing when he felt a dull throbbing pain at his side. He sat up, the blanket that was covering him pooling in his lap. He was back here, at your apartment, and apparently he had gotten another good nights sleep here. After a moment he remembered what happened, how he ended up here in the middle of the night. 

He pushed himself off the couch and looked around, finding you sitting crossed legged on the kitchen counter. Your were wearing the same large gray USMC sweater that he had seen when the snow storm hit two weeks ago. With that you wore a pair of black yoga pants and a pair of bright blue fuzzy socks. Your hair was kind of a mess and, as he studied your face, he noticed that you were biting your bottom lip as you concentrated on stitching up…his jacket?

 

“What are you doing?” He asked, standing next to the counter.

You jumped up with a yell, partly because James, as was becoming a habit of his, startled you and partly because you just stabbed your thumb with a sewing needle. You turned a small glare at him as you sucked your thumb, especially because he was trying and failing to hold back a smirk, “You should be resting.”

James shook his head, “I’m fine.”

You went back to sewing up his jacket, “That’s exactly what you said right before you passed out last night…” your brows furrowed, “Or, this morning, whatever it was.” You glanced down at your phone, it was nearing 11 AM and you hadn’t slept since James arrived.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see him frown. You supposed he hadn’t remembered passing out. Biting back a sigh you raised the jacket to your mouth and cut the sewing thread with your teeth, “Sit back down and I’ll make some breakfast.” You said as you tied off the thread, grinning to yourself proudly. Hand stitching wasn’t really your forte, but the fact that you used black thread on black fabric hid the imperfections of the stitch. 

He nodded and turned, about to walk back to the couch when you hopped off the counter. “Oh lemme check your bandages first.” You said, your hand reaching out to touch his shoulder. _His left shoulder._ He jerked back away from you, eyebrows furrowed and he grabbed your wrist with his right hand. You froze, both scared of the painful grip he had on your wrist and the look on his face. That was the same look he had when he was fighting your attackers. That had seemed like such a long time ago, but now that you were staring at him in fear you realized it was only about a month ago. Only a month. Only a month and here you were treating him like he was a trusted friend. What the _hell_ did you get yourself into?

The two of you stood still in silence, only the sound of your slightly labored, panicked, breathing heard. You were the first to crack, “Please don’t hurt me.” You whispered, fear laced in every word. His blue eyes went wide as he let go of our hand, which you immediately pulled back to your chest. His eyes darted from side to side, his right hand now holding his head in confusion, before he looked back at you. “I’m. Sorry.” He muttered before reaching behind you, causing you to flinch and let out a squeal in fear, as he snatched the sweater and jacket that were still on the counter.

When you realized that he hadn’t moved to touch you, you opened your eyes and you were met with a dismal sight. He looked so crestfallen, dismayed at your reaction to him. You didn’t understand why, at all. Part of you even wanted to tell him it was ok and forget about it. But the stinging of your wrist was a firm reminder that you should have been more wary of him in the first place. James said something under his breath, another apology, and moved with that same swiftness you saw when he carried Dipstick to the animal hospital, he was gone. He hadn’t even bothered to put on a shirt. 

After a few moments to regain your senses you realized that he had left his duffle bag full of extra clothing. You weren’t sure if the anticipation at seeing him again (you were determined to at least give him back his clothes, he didn’t look like he had much) was a good thing or a bad thing.


	17. 16th/17th Encounters: December 17th & 18th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to everyone who commented and left a kudos! This is honestly the longest fic I've ever written and I'm 100% surprised that with my attention span as short as it is, I find myself still writing it! It's all thanks to you guys and the wonderful words of encouragement!

After James had left, you retired to your room and fell asleep for most of the day. Apparently taking care of a wounded man, washing his jacket and sweater and patching up said articles of clothing was exhausting. When you woke next, it was Saturday night and you spent the night washing the blood stains out of your couch. You even washed the spare clothes that James had in his bag just for good measure. Despite not being tired, you forced yourself to bed and stayed there until you fell asleep. 

You didn’t let yourself sleep in Sunday morning, instead you woke up bright and early and made yourself an egg sandwich for breakfast and headed out, grabbing James’ dufflebag. Your right foot caught a patch of black ice at the bottom of the stairs, your foot slipping out in front of you and your arms flying out to the side in an attempt at catching balance. Your squeak was cut short when your hands were caught and you were steadied. 

When you looked up at who caught you, you found yourself in a familiar blue gaze. As soon as your eyes met, he let go of your hands quickly. “Oh, uhm. James…” 

Despite the fact that when you set out you had planned to find him, you didn’t know what to say to him. You had hoped you would have time, on the way to the park where you were going to check first, to think of something to say. You hadn’t expected him to be back at your apartment. An awkward silence passed before James looked down at the bag that you had dropped and you immediately flushed from embarrassment. 

“Oh! I was gonna try to find you. You left this at my place…” You said as you picked up the bag and held it out to him. 

Hesitantly, and very carefully you noted, he reached out and took the bag from you, muttering a quiet thank you. Another silence followed before he dipped his head in a small nod and turned around, leaving you there still uncertain of how you felt about him.

***

Bucky tossed the bag to the side of the room he had claimed as his. It was the most intact room of an abandoned building. When he was out of cash, as he was now, this is where he’d sleep for the night. Most of the time he didn’t even lay down, just sat down with his back against the wall and stared at nothing as he tried to piece together fuzzy memories. The man from the bridge, Steve, came to mind often. But he didn’t understand the context of those memories. The Steve he knew was small, asthmatic, had high blood pressure and many other health defects. But when he thought of Steve, the man from the bridge also came to mind. It was just all so confusing! 

Although he was tempted to punch a hole through the wall from the frustration, he took a few deep breaths to calm down. It was only then that he realized that he still wasn’t wearing a shirt. He had slipped on the sweater and jacket as he left _’s apartment, but now that he was sitting down he realized how slightly uncomfortable he was. With a sigh he leaned over and grabbed his duffle bag and dragged it over to him. Carelessly he unzipped it and froze when he saw what was inside. On top of a pile of neatly folded clothes was a brown paper lunch bag. Hesitantly he opened the bag, of course it was food: a sandwich, a bag of chips, and a bottle of water. Completely forgetting, for a moment, that he was supposed to be grabbing one of the spare T-shirts, he grabbed the sandwich and started eating, savoring the taste, as he dropped the rest of the contents of the lunch bag out. Even his chewing stopped when a note fell out of the bag. 

Gently he turned the piece of scrap paper over, a familiar sensation bothering him as he read the words over and over in his mind.

 _"Don’t worry. Bruises heal."_

***

Work was uneventful, other than still actively trying to avoid Ryan. You could tell, by the way the day dragged on, that it was going to be a long week. It was only Monday and you honestly couldn’t wait for the weekend. On the way home you decided to stop by the store, you didn’t know what possessed you to do so but you decided to refill the supplies you lost from your first aid kit. Walking up to the sliding doors a sense of déjà vu hit you as you saw James walking out, small bag with only one or maybe two items, in hand. The both of you faltered for a second before you put on a smile and waved at him, even giving him a cheerful “Hi!” as the two of were close. He just nodded, as usual and left you to do your shopping.

The trip wasn’t that long, all you needed were some bandages, some gauze, and that’s about it. Hell, some more snacks couldn’t hurt. As you left the store you expected to see James waiting out in front, expected him to offer to walk you home. He wasn’t waiting, however, and you ended up walking home _alone_.


	18. 18th Encounter: December 20th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eep, sorry all. I meant to post this Tuesday afternoon, but I got majorly distracted. Thank you for your comments! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Your knees bounced restlessly and you tapped your pen quickly against your desk. You still hadn’t seen James since your run in at the store, but that hardly counted for anything. He just nodded at you, like you were a random friendly stranger! After everything, after he saved you, after you cried all over him, after you _spent freaking Thanksgiving together_ , and after he showed up at your place bleeding to death. And he acted like you were a stranger. Why were you even thinking about him so much?! It’s not like you were great friends or anything. Even if you’d like to be...Was that why every free thought you had drifted to him? But, he was dangerous, wasn’t he? No. Kind of. Maybe. Sort of. Ugh! 

Ryan’s voice jolted you out of your thoughts, which for once you were glad for his interruption. “What?” You asked a little sharper than you meant to. 

“Do you need a ride home? It’s starting to snow-”

You cut him off with a wave of your hand, your tone dismissive. “No, no. No, thanks.” 

He lingered longer than necessary but seeing as how you weren’t going to change your mind, he left. Good. Because you were about to do something very stupid and the last thing you needed (or perhaps the exact thing you needed) was someone to talk you out of it. Thankfully, none of your other coworkers shared Ryan’s concern about your walk through the snow and left you alone. 

After changing your shoes (from your work shoes to snow boots) and bundling up as tightly as possible, you took a deep breath and headed out. It was just past five and it was already dark... because what you were about to do wasn’t something intimidating enough. _’Make a decision and stick with it, no turning back, no stopping.’_ You kept repeating to yourself, in hopes that you would actually go through with your plan. 

You stilled for a moment as you stared at the park entrance. It was the only place you could think of to find James. Well, other than the grocery store, but there were only so many reasons to keep going to the store. No stopping now, you reminded yourself, and continued down the very familiar path. The same you used when you used to take Dipstick out for her walks. How much safer would you feel if you had Dip with you, or any dog for that matter. 

Ten minutes later you found yourself at a pavilion and sure enough James was just sitting there. You wondered why he always seemed so lost in thought, you had as suspicion of PTSD but you would never know unless he told you more about him. Fleetingly the old proverb curiosity killed the cat entered your mind, but he just looked so despondent and you just wanted to do what you could to help him. 

You sat on the table across from him, undoubtedly he heard you approach, but even as you sat a few feet from him he didn’t respond. You weren’t going to let silence linger around this time, “How’re your reflexes?”

James actually blinked, clearly confused by your question, as his eyes focused on you instead of the empty space in front of him. 

“Here, catch.” You said and tossed a granola bar that you had slipped in your pocket before leaving. He caught it easily, staring at the green metallic wrapper but not moving to eat it. 

“I don’t need your pity. Or charity.” He finally growled out and tossed the snack back at you. 

Unlike him, your reflexes weren’t sharp. You let out an embarrassed squeak as the bar hit you in your face. You both pouted and glared at him, the upwards twitch at his lips not unnoticed by you. 

“...I lied to you.”

Now his eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed, “What?”

“About Leyla. The medical officer I met in Georgia...She _did_ teach me basic first aid. But...she didn’t become a teacher.” 

James frowned, uncertain of why or even what you were telling him.

“She was a good friend. I should have been there for her. But she didn’t like talking about what happened to her, she would always get upset. One time she got violent and choked me out. After that I left Georgia. Just packed up my things and moved to New York the very next day.” 

You paused to compose yourself, but James took it as an opportunity to ask for clarification. “Why are you telling me this?” 

You pursed your lips together into a tight line, “She tried so many times to contact me. She tried to apologize. And I know that I pushed too hard when she was having an episode. But I never let her apologize. I didn’t talk to her again…She OD’d. If I hadn’t ran away, if I had just answered her calls, she might still be alive…” You wiped away the tears that you hadn’t even noticed that were starting to stream down your face. 

James glared at you, though you were too busy trying not to break down to notice the menace in his eyes. “So you’re using me to make yourself feel better about letting your friend die?”

The harshness of his words made you bite back a sob and a few more tears slid down your face. “Kind of.” You answered truthfully, gathering the courage to look him in the eyes. “Look, I won’t pry. You don’t have to tell me a thing. But, if you need anything...if you need someone to talk to, or if you just need some company, you know where I live.” 

He still hadn’t said anything by the time you calmed down. You sighed and tossed the granola bar back to him, which he caught again. “Well, I’m going home. It’s too cold for me.” 

You heard the snow crunch behind you and turned around to see him catch up to you, “What are you doing?” You asked, brow raised. 

“You don’t think I’m going to let a lady walk home alone at night, do you?”


	19. 19th Encounter: December 23rd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to those who left a comment, I'm glad the last chapter went over well, I was kind of uncertain about it.

You sat awkwardly at one end of the couch with James on the opposite end. He had shown up early Saturday morning looking worse for wear. He had heavy bags under his eyes and his hair was a mess, like he kept running his hands through it. You’d made two cups of chamomile tea and set one down in front of him, but he hadn’t touched it. Self consciously you kept patting down your hair, since James had woken you from a very deep sleep and you answered the door still in your pajamas. 

“You shouldn’t feel guilty.”

“Huh?”

“You shouldn’t feel guilty about what happened to your friend.”

Oh. You looked down at your mug, deciding not to say anything. 

“You protected yourself-”

“I ran away.” You interrupted, and corrected, him. 

“If I...If I ever, again-”

He couldn’t bring himself to admit that he had hurt you. Neither could you, actually. You held up a hand and stopped him, “Enough. Trust me. I’ve already thought about it. If it happened, I’m moving to Canada.”

He didn’t say anything for a few moments but reached over to grab his tea, “I thought you hated the cold.” He smirked as he took a sip of tea.

You laughed through your nose, “Hey, I started out in southern California. Not many places left for me to go.” 

James glanced at you, blue eyes curious and you were kind of glad for that. If talking about you meant that he wasn’t plagued with thoughts of his past, then you’d sit and talk about yourself all day. “Why aren’t you with your family?”

You frowned a little but shrugged, pushing back your emotions. “Not much family to speak of. My father passed away when I was just a kid and my mother, well, we don’t exactly get along.” You gave a rather vague answer but James wanted to distract himself from his past, your own slightly sordid past probably wasn’t going to be much help. 

He apologized quietly, but you shrugged again. “What? Like it’s your fault I had a small family? Nah.” 

“I had three siblings. Two sisters and brother.” 

You smiled softly, uncertain if he wanted to say more, and while you wanted to ask where his siblings were, you meant what you told him at the park. If he wanted to tell you more about them, then he would have to do so of his own volition. He didn’t say anything else and after a few minutes of silence you stretched out and set your mug on the coffee table. “Well James, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get out of these pajamas.” 

He stood up at the same time and quickly set his mug down, “I’ll leave-”

“Nonsense. You woke me up bright and early today, the least you could do is keep me company over lunch.” You waved, hoping he would sit back down. 

James smiled and held up both hands in mock surrender, “Of course, where are my manners?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I have to tell you something...I've run out of prompts. I have a few rough drafts that will take us through to February-ish and then there's this huge gap before I get to July-August, where I have planned to end the story. I don't quite know how I'm going to deal with this yet, so updates may slow down while I try to come up with a solution.


	20. 20th Encounter: December 24th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update, but as usual, thank you very much to those who commented and left a kudos! This story has a little over 300 kudos now! That may not seem like a lot, but considering this is the first story I've posted in a long time, I'm excited that so many people like it! 
> 
> December 24th, Christmas eve, but there is no mention of the holidays in the chapter.

You had invited James over for lunch again. It was nearing one in the afternoon and he still hadn’t arrived. He might’ve been fine with eating a cold lunch, but you ate your portion while it was still nice and hot. Now you were cleaning up, something you had been putting off for a while, and you came to the dog crate that still sat in the corner of your living room. A frown pulled down your lips as you took a plastic grocery bag and started throw away the used chew toys and food and water bowls. When you came to a clean bone you took a deep breath to bite back the tears. You’d gotten the bone for Dipstick last year on what you considered her birthday. Since she was an adult dog when you adopted her, the pound couldn’t tell you exactly when she was born. So you made the day she was adopted her birthday. She loved that bone, would chew on it for hours and sometimes you’d wake up in the middle of the night for a drink or snack and stub your toe on the thing. 

Quickly you wiped away your tears when there was a soft knock at the door. You stood up from your spot to open the door, not realizing that you were still holding the dog bone in one hand. James took one look at your eyes, brimming with tears, “Are you alright?”

“Yea, yea, come in.” You said and stepped aside, hiding the dog bone behind your back. He probably saw it, regardless. 

James stepped inside and took off his jacket as you tossed the dog bone near the rest of the stuff you were throwing away and walked to the kitchen. He eyed the pile of discarded pet toys as you moved around the kitchen, heating up his meal. As you walked to the living now he asked a question that made you pause. “What are you doing?”

You followed his line of sight and swallowed the lump in your throat. “Oh yea. I thought it was time to throw away Dip’s stuff. Not like she’s coming back…” 

“Here ya go,” you forced a smile as you handed him the plate of chicken, rice and broccoli, instead of setting it down in front of him like you had before. As always, whenever he took something from you, he was very gentle. 

You sat down and watched TV silently while he ate, hoping that he’d leave when he finished lunch. While you usually enjoyed his company, even if he was quiet, when you started to the process of throwing Dipstick’s toys away, you’d gotten emotional. You didn’t want to cry in front of him, not again. 

It didn’t take long for James to finish the two servings you’d heaped onto his plate, and you smiled, a genuine not forced smile, “Hungry were ya?”

James looked down with a blush, how adorable. But when he looked back at you his eyes were serious, “Do you need help?”

“Huh?” 

He motioned to the dog crate, “Getting rid of her stuff...”

You were silent for a moment, not looking at James but instead at the empty dog bed inside the crate. Even though Dipstick wasn’t there, you could still see her curled up on that dog bed asleep, or chewing on her favorite bone. Your eyes watered again and before you could say no, you nodded. “Uh, actually yea. The crate is kinda hard to break down,” you held up your hands, “soft and weak hands.” You added half joking but mostly telling the truth. The tabs on the crate that kept the sides together did hurt whenever you tried to break down the crate. 

You slid the dog bed and the plastic pan out of the crate and stepped back, picking up the trash bag with the dog toys and let James deconstruct the crate. He didn’t even struggle as his strong hands pulled the tabs back and he folded the crate down. He looked at you, “Should I take this outside?”

“No. No, I want to keep the crate. In case I get another dog.” You said, “Just slide it under my bed.” 

He nodded and took the now collapsed dog crate and pan and took the few steps to your bedroom, sliding the crate under your bed. When he stepped out of your room he saw you sliding a jacket and boots on, it wasn’t snowing today but it was still relatively cold, old snow and ice still lingering. “I’ll be right back,” you said without turning around to face James, trying to hide the quiver in your voice.

As you tried to pull the door shut behind you, you met resistance and you turned, surprised to see James leaving the apartment too. He wasn’t wearing his jacket and the laces on his boots weren’t even tied. “I’m just heading to the dumpster,” you said, shifting a bit as you were carrying the dog bed squished under one arm and the bag of toys in the same hand. James nodded and followed you to the dumpster. You couldn’t complain, him being next to you somehow made you feel better.

You stared at the green, rusted, and slightly foul smelling dumpster for a moment before taking a breath and tossing the dog bed over the top. You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped as you did the same with the bag of dog toys. Quickly you turned on heel, so that James wouldn’t see the tears that had sprung forth. 

When you made it back to your apartment, you sat down on the couch and tried to distract yourself by watching TV. You weren’t even sure what was on, some old movie by the looks of it. James was silent but sat next to you. Not on cushion on the other side of the couch. But on the middle cushion, right next to you. You stiffened when he placed his right hand on your shoulder. Not that you were scared of him, you just didn’t want to cry in front of him. He seemed to sense this, however.

“I’ve already seen you cry before, doll.” 

You laughed through your nose and shook your head. “I think you’ve seen me cry enough times.” 

James frowned slightly but nodded, adding a gentle squeeze to your shoulder, “Can I change this?”

You chuckled, thankful he had dropped the subject, “Go for it.” 

As James lazily flipped through the channels, he rested his right arm on the back of the couch behind you. He didn’t touch you, but the gesture was warm and comforting all the same.


	21. January 5th: Hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the comments and kudos all! My apologies for the long wait for this chapter. Also, not that it really matters, but from now on I'll be naming the chapters differently. I figured it'd make sense to stop keeping track of the encounters because at this point I consider them to be friends. I may keep the dates, just so there's some semblance of time passing.

You were currently curled up on one side of the couch covered in the spare blanket that James had used when he stayed the night. Another heavy snowfall had sent him seeking shelter at your place. Even after breakfast it was still snowing so you expected he would stay. You politely offered to let him use your shower, noticing that he had brought his pack of extra clothing along. Which was why you were trying to take a nap on the couch. The bathroom was connected to your room, you wanted to offer him as much privacy as possible and that didn’t include you being just a few feet from him when he stepped out.

Just as your were starting to fall asleep you felt the couch shift. You took a deep breath, mostly to wake yourself up, and turned see James had taken a seat on the opposite side of the couch. The first thing you noticed was his clean shaven face. Sharp jawline, cute little dimple in his chin, and pink lips had all been, at least partially, covered by his beard. He was wearing a simple white undershirt and a pair of jeans. His hair was still damp, creating beachy waves that you were slightly envious of. Other than the time you patched him up, you hadn’t seen him without at least a sweater. Now, however, the large metal appendage was out in the open. 

Perhaps sensing your stare James glanced at you and ran a hand through his hair, though it didn’t look like a nervous gesture, instead like he was just trying to get it out of his face. “Hey, can I...do your hair?”

The look on his face was enough to make you giggle. After a moment his frown straightened out, “You’re not going to do anything ridiculous, are you?”

You smiled and shook your head, keeping in another giggle. “No, of course not. Just gonna get your hair out of your eyes.” 

He sighed, “Yeah, fine, I guess.” 

You grinned, having to contain a squeal of glee, and nearly jumped off the couch as you went to your room. You grabbed a brush, a rat tail comb and stuffed a few small elastic bands into your pocket. Still grinning you returned to the living room and realized that standing behind the couch would make it difficult to do his hair, and you didn’t have any chairs in the apartment. Hm…

“Turn that way, with your back to me,” you said and pointed at the door. He did as you said and you sat on the armrest behind him. Very softly you touched his hair, first playing with a few strands nearer to the base of his neck. He stiffened, which you expected and why you had started of slowly. Once he was used to your touch, or as used to it as he could get, you took the brush and started working out the few tangles in his hair. Since his hair was still wet it was easy and you were running the brush from the top of his head down to the ends, his head leaning back slightly. 

When he let out a relaxed sigh and his back hit your knees you realized that you’d somehow ditched the brush and were basically just massaging his scalp, running your hands through his hair. Oops. A part of you wanted to tease him, but that would most likely backfire. Instead you picked up the comb and used the tail to divide his hair evenly at the temples, pulling that section into a ponytail. Another grin spread across your face when he didn’t pull away. You began a dutch braid along his scalp. That’s when he tried to pull away, but your fingers were already tangled in his hair, “You said you weren’t going to do anything stupid!” He accused.

You rolled your eyes and chuckled, “I swear I’m not! Now just sit back.” 

James returned to his former position but didn’t fall into the same relaxation. When the braid reached about an inch behind his ear, you let the hair hang and started on another braid just below the first one, mirroring it exactly. You did the same thing on the other side of his head, pulling the extra hair into the hair tie. 

“There. Done. Now was that so hard?” You said with a smile.

He turned to face you, and even though he was trying to keep a neutral face, you knew he was curious about what you had done to this hair. “Look,” you said and pulled out your phone from your pocket. You turned the front facing camera on and held it out to him so he could see himself. James frowned as he turned his head to the side, “...What did you do to me?”

You laughed and got up from the couch, “I made you look cool.”

Despite his apparent dislike for his new do, the braids remained intact throughout the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I think they're dutch braids...I can't really tell. ](https://www.bangstyle.com/pics/121524)


	22. January 10th: Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the mini hiatus. I ended up burning myself out so much I honestly couldn't even read more than a few sentences of anything, much less write. But! I'm back, refreshed and excited to write this fic again! Anyways, thank you for your patience, support and especially thank you to everyone who left comments!

The last time you’d had any really close friends, you were in Georgia. When you moved to New York, you just couldn’t bring yourself to get close to anyone. Sure you were friendly but you made a point of keeping your personal life (no matter how boring it was) just that, personal. That happened to include eating lunch in seclusion. Most of the time anyways. Jess, a new woman in the office, was sitting sitting with you in your cubicle today. This lunch arrangement was most likely temporary. You were just showing Jess around the office and teaching her the basics. Once she was used to things she’d leave your side. Hopefully. 

“So you walk to the office everyday?”

You nod.

“You don’t drive?”

You shook your head. 

“Do you have a car?’

Another negative. Actually, after a while of living so close to the office you realized that the car was just taking up part of your paycheck: insurance, gas, inspection, maintenance. Living so close to work and a shopping center, you just decided to sell it. 

“I don’t know how you do it in all this snow. Or even in the summer. If I didn’t have a car, I’d get a boyfriend with a car to drive me.” She snapped her fingers like she’d had some sort of epiphany. “You know, that Ryan guy seems to have a thing for you.”

You rolled your eyes, “Seriously, don’t even mention that.”

She laughed and asked you about the details. You gave her enough to let her know that you weren’t at all interested in James and that you were actively avoiding him. She got the hint and changed the topic to some reality show that you were only vaguely familiar with. But you were glad to talk about that rather than yourself. 

***

Over the week, even though James wasn’t staying at your place, he’d walk you to and from work. However, he’d meet you past the parking lot. Probably to avoid your co workers. A wise decision. 

You greeted each other and, as usual, began the walk home in a comfortable silence. At least it was until your brain started spinning. Something about your conversation with Jess made you wonder why James was walking with you everyday. It made perfect sense for you to walk everywhere; it didn’t make sense for James to walk with you. 

“Hey, not that I’m complaining or anything, but why do you walk me home all the time?”

He looked away from you, all you saw was the side of his face. Since he hadn’t shaved in a few days, a light stubble traveled down his neck. It fit him more than the full beard did. “...James?”

His eyes were trained ahead at the stop walk, at the solid red hand. “Why do you help me?” He finally responded.

“Well, cuz...I mean, we’re friends, right?” You weren’t close friends, neither of you were the type to open up to others quickly, but you were friends nonetheless. 

James looked at you, his usually impassive eyes had a strange but light sparkle to them. The light turned green and the two of you crossed the street. Was that a yes? You were friends? Or was that a no, you weren’t friends? Thankfully James seemed to be thinking hard about his answer. If he hadn’t been so caught up in his own thoughts, the silence would have been awkward. As you promised you wouldn’t pressure him, you dropped it...But, if he didn’t consider you a friend, then why did he walk you home so often?

It wasn’t until you reached your door did James speak up again. “Because I have to.”

“Huh?” 

“It’s my fault.”

You unlocked your door and motioned for him to follow; if he was throwing around blame then this wasn’t a conversation to have at the door. While you shimmied out of your coat and boots, James didn’t move, just stood still in the doorway. “What are you talking about?”

He looked away from you, first to the coat hanger then to his shoes. “I _have_ to protect you.”

The way he said that made you a little nervous. “What do you mean?” If he was getting stalkerish on you, then you had to put a stop to this now.

“I have to protect you. Make sure you’re safe. Because it’s my fault that Dipstick died.” He still wouldn’t look at you but at the mention of Dip, you weren’t looking at him either.

“No it’s not. The only person to blame for that is the man who shot her...And maybe if I hadn’t stepped up to him-”

“But if I had only been faster-”

“James!” You moved in front him, your socked toes hitting the tips of his boots, and the fact that you were shorter than him made it a lot easier to look him in the eye. Once you made eye contact you held his gaze, “ _You’re_ the reason I got to say goodbye to her. You’re the reason I’m still here, perfectly fine.” Well, aside from the paranoia but right now you weren’t talking about your issues. “And you’re not obligated to do anything for me, you have no reason to be.” 

“But I have to-”

“No. You don’t.” You said firmly, widening your eyes slightly and pursing your lips to get the message across. “If you’re doing all this ‘cuz you feel like you owe me-” 

“It’s not that!”

You sighed and took a step back. “James, look-”

“I want to!” 

…

“What?”

James shifted awkwardly, looking away from you again, this time his eyes wandering towards the kitchen. “We’re friends…” 

Your lips began to twitch as you tried to hold back a smile. Even out of the corner of his eyes James noticed and it clearly made him uncomfortable. He muttered a quick goodbye and bolted out the door. You yanked the door back open with a laugh and stuck your head out, spotting James a few feet from the stairs. “See you tomorrow?” You yelled, a giggle still in your voice. James waved a hand back at you but didn’t turn and didn’t stop. 

The smile that was on your face when you locked the door lingered for the rest of the night.


	23. February 17th: Take out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the support and comments and especially for understanding my absence. Thanks also to the anon who found me venting on Tumblr and encouraged me to keep to my original outline :) Anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter.

Ever since James had admitted that he thought of you as a friend, he seemed to be more open. Not with his past, he never spoke of that and you never asked, but with you in general. Whenever he’d show up at your place he wasn’t awkward or nervous anymore, he didn’t seem like he was looking for any excuse to leave as quickly as possible. Sometimes he’d even tease you; mostly by scaring you with his ninja like movements, but in the end, it was nice to see him smiling and laughing. The biggest change in him you noticed was how comfortable, how normal, he was with handing things to you or taking things from you. Even before the incident neither of you spoke of anymore, he was always so careful. But now, as he passed you the container of fried rice, he didn’t flinch or quickly pull away when his hand accidentally touched yours. 

“I didn’t even know there was a Chinese place nearby! Thanks!” You said as you began to fill your plate with your favorite foods. James showed up, randomly, with a lot, a lot, of Chinese take out. 

He grinned, making sure to swallow the mouthful of food he’d just taken, “There isn’t. I had to take the bus about half an hour out.” 

You laughed, covering your mouth with one hand so you didn’t flash half chewed food at him. “Well, I’m so glad you brought food. I was about to have cereal for lunch.” 

“You cook for me all the time, it’s the least I can do.” He said seriously, picking at his food and refusing to look at you. He would do that when he was embarrassed, and since you didn’t want him to start feeling uncomfortable you took his refusal to look at you as a sign to stop talking. 

As you were eating, just enjoying the food and watching TV, you kept noticing movement from your peripherals. At first you thought it was just James moving as he ate but you quickly realized he was looking to and away from you over and over. “What?” You asked once you’d had enough.

His eyebrows raised, like he was surprised by your sudden question, “What?”

“Seriously James? You hurt me,” you dramatically placed a hand over your heart and hung your head. “I thought we were friends. I thought we could tell each other anything!” You wiped away a fake tear, “Well, except for you know, the stuff we don’t talk about,” you added as an afterthought with a shrug. 

James sighed, put his food down and wiped his hands off for head measure. “Can I see your phone?” 

“Uh, sure.” You handed him your phone, which had been sitting in your lap the whole time.

Although you tried to see what he was doing, he kept leaning away from you and hiding your phone. Eventually you gave up, you’d find out what he was doing sooner or later. 

“I like this picture.” 

“Hey!” You playfully glared at him. “I didn’t say you could look at my pics!” But when you saw the picture he had pulled up, all playfulness from you faded. It honestly wasn’t the most flattering picture of you, though you had a cheerful smile on your face. You were sitting down on a grassy hill, random people and dogs behind you, in a dark blue T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Your hair was matted with sweat and your face was flushed with exhaustion. Next to you sat Dipstick, her long slobbery tongue hanging out of one side of her mouth, her fur disheveled, and her leash hung loosely in your hand. The pair of you looked tired, but happy. “Oh yea...That was right after we ran a 10k for the adoption center.” 

You stared down at your food remembering the event fondly. You didn’t even notice James send the picture to someone. Not until the familiar buzz of a phone on vibration reverberated through the air. “Aw man, did someone send me a text?” You asked, thinking it was work. 

James shook his head, “No. That was me.”

You stared at him, a brow raised. He had a phone? Since when? 

He sighed and handed your phone back to you, though his eyes were trained on the TV. “Don’t look at me like that. I just put my number in your phone.” 

A slow smile spread across your face. James could be so odd sometimes. How could he so confident and shy at the same time? “Really?” You scrolled through your contacts list and found his name, James B. What did the ‘B’ stand for?

You noticed the text he sent from your phone to his had a picture attachment. So that’s why he was looking through your pictures! But it wasn’t the picture of you and Dip that he had commented on. It was just a selfie you took at a concert, the stage (empty save the equipment) in the background. 

“When did you get a phone anyways?” You were quite certain that he didn’t have one when you first met. In fact, you were pretty sure this was recent.

He shrugged, “I needed it for work.”

Ah. That made sense, but, “What do you do?”

He didn’t answer and for a moment you thought you might have crossed that line you set when you told him you wouldn’t pry. “I mean, you don’t have to answer if you don’t-”

“I work as a PI.” He cut you off.

Encouraged by his answer you got bold and opened the camera on your phone, aiming it at him. “Say cheese!” He just gave you a deadpan look. “Well, I hope you have a cool last name. James, PI, just doesn’t sound cool.” 

He snorted a laugh at you, as if he hadn’t once thought about how cool his name should sound with his job title. “It’s Barnes.” Ah, so that’s what the ‘B’ stood for.

“Hmm...James Barnes, PI...That’s a little better I guess.” 

He didn’t answer, you were beginning to get a hang of his silences and this was one of those silences that meant he was starting to dwell on the past. Instead of letting him drift off into mind, however, you softly and quickly nudged his leg with your foot. He looked at you, expecting you to say something but you just pretended like nothing happened and kept watching TV. James smiled, grateful that you had pulled him out of his thoughts without prying. He didn’t say anything either, he didn’t need to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me explain his job as a PI. My dad became a PI after he got out of the Marines (that totally didn't influence this story at all...) and it was a very flexible job. I remember while he was a PI he would drive us to school and pick us up, and he would be the one to attend all our school functions and he never had to worry about asking for time off for any of that. It also wasn't very dangerous, though the recommendations for the particular company that he worked for were either former military or police service, because he was just catching people trying to pull off insurance fraud. So he'd have to like watch someone who claimed a broken leg and if he saw them (and got a pic i think) of them like getting up and running around then the insurance company wouldn't pay for the man's broken leg. Anyways, that's what I imagine Bucky would do, something suited to his skills but not triggering.


	24. March 16th: White Lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank yo so much for all the comments and kudos left on the last chapter! I honestly wasn't expecting such love for that chapter, I'm so glad y'all liked it!

Apparently James’ job was going well, because he’s kind of been spoiling you. At one point, since he’d been staying over so often, you’d given him your spare key. After that he restocked the fridge. Didn’t even tell you. You just said you wanted to make a stop at the store on the way home and he told you that he already went to the store. You had burgers for dinner that night. Which you were about to have to lunch today. 

You heard the door unlock just as you set the uncooked patties in the pan. You turned to face him, seeing him kick off his boots and hang his hoodie up. His faux leather jacket had found a permanent place on the coat hanger since, according to him, it wasn’t cold enough for it anymore. 

“Oh good, you’re here,” you said as you set down the spatula, “Can you watch the burgers for a second, I needa check the mail.” 

James looked at you and stepped back into his boots, “I’ll do it. It’ll take you an hour to get into all you coats anyways.” He grinned when you rolled your eyes. 

“Here, it’s box 305.” You tossed the keys to him. He caught the keys and left again, locking the door behind him even though he was only going to be gone for a few minutes. 

He wasn’t gone very long, of course, the mailbox was just down the stairs. When he returned he simply set the pile of mail on the counter behind you and made himself comfortable on the couch. 

“I was watching that!” You half yelled indignantly when James changed the channel. “No you weren’t.” He responded back just as quickly, making you throw your head back with laughter. 

As you were shuffling through the mail, tossing out all the junk and thankful for electronic billing, you came across an unfamiliar name. It wasn’t unusual to get the neighbor's mail, but this wasn't even a neighbor. 

“Who the hell is Alexander Volkov? Nobody with that kind of name around here.” 

“That’s me,” James said as he snatched the envelope out of your hand. “It’s my paycheck.” Your response was to simply raise a questioning brow. “I don’t really trust the motel to deliver mail.”

You stopped and stared at him. He was using a fake name, lived in a motel, and was using your address as his…? “Uhh, I don’t even, I don’t even know what to ask first.”

He smirked at you, “Then this could just be one of those things we don’t talk about.” 

Oh no. That was your line! “Yo, you are all kinds of shady right now.” 

He stuffed the envelope in his pocket and gave a self deprecating laugh, if only you knew. “I’m sorry I didn't ask-” 

You cut him off with a wave of the spatula in hand. “It’s fine. I mean, no one’s gonna come knocking down my door looking for Alexander Volkov right?” 

James shook his head, taking the question very seriously. “No, you’re safe.” 

Ookay. The odd choice of words scared you a little. You turned your attention back to the burgers but you could still feel his stare at you back. “I can change-” 

You waved the spatula again. “I told you it’s fine…” You turned around and stared at him, narrowing your eyes in confusion and suspicion. “But, if that’s your guilty face, just answer one question.” 

He sighed, “Fine.”

You grinned, “What’s with the Russian name? Ooh, or, what motel and is that where you live?” 

It would be nice to know where he lived, but you were also curious about the fake name. James nodded, “The Sunset motel-”

“Like three blocks down? Dude, that’s where all the hookers go!”

He groaned and ran his hand through his hair in aggravation, “I know. Why do you think I crash here so often?”

After a fit of giggles on your part, of course, James settled back onto the couch and hogged the remotes while you made lunch. Once the burgers were done and veggies chopped, James made his way to the kitchen to make his own burger. Apparently you didn’t move fast enough for the starving man. You smiled when the two of you sat down on the couch together, kind of glad that you didn’t have a real table. Meals were a bit messy, but intimate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, things are starting to move slow again, but stay with me! I swear, next chapter will get interesting!


	25. April 12th: Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of a language warning for this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely comments and kudos! Especially those of you who like the fluff chapter! I am constantly worried about those chapters that just develop the friendship but not so much the plot, thanks so much for the encouragement!

You had about ten minutes left on your lunch break, naturally you’d spend the rest of your free time on your phone. That was, until someone cleared their throat to get your attention. You looked up, expecting to see Ryan but were instead met with a stranger. He stood about average height, dressed in a simple T-shirt and jeans, but the thing that stood out most about him was the way he held himself. He stood like a soldier. This man, whose umber eyes sparkled with kindness and earnesty, was definitely military, or former military. You’d been around enough veterans for years to know the look. 

You smiled at him, noticing that he was giving your a polite smile as well, “Can I help you?”

“Yea, are you (Full/N)?”

“That’d be me. What can I do for you?”

“I have a few questions for you about Bucky Barnes. I just need to get in touch with him.”

You shook your head, though the last name mentioned did set you on alert, “Sorry I don’t know a Bucky Barnes.” 

Apparently he was expecting that, phone in hand he pulled up a picture and showed it to you. It was of a young man in a dress uniform, Army by the looks of it. But old school Army. Of course he was clean shaven, you couldn’t see his hair, cut short, because of the wide hat placed neatly on his head. It took you a moment but the man looked like James. An ache gripped your heart when you realized, even in the grainy photo, he didn’t look as grim as the James you knew. This neutral set face James had looked _happier_ than even when you got James to laugh. 

Snapping out of your thoughts you shook your head again, “Uh, sorry. Is he one those historical reenactment guys? A cosplayer? I don’t really hang with anyone like that.”

The man let out a quiet chortle, “Uh no. Do you recognize him in this picture?” He swiped to the right and the picture changed to one that looked a lot more modern, though it looked to be a satellite image. The man in this picture was one hundred percent James. He was dressed in nondescript combat gear, the steel arm glinting from sunlight was a dead give away. He stood in the middle of a street, it was cropped but you could tell that there was an accident, a disaster, behind the man. 

“Uh, sorry, still can’t help you.” Your gut was telling you to lie to this man. You didn’t know why, he seemed like a trustworthy enough person, at least as much as any other stranger, but still, something just compelled you to hide the truth. 

The man sighed and put his phone back in his pocket, “Look, for real, I just want to talk to him.”

You shrugged your shoulders, “Sorry, I mean, I wish I could help you, but I can’t.” 

“May I?” He asked pointing to your desk, at the stack of business cards, and you nodded. He scribbled his name and a number on the back of one and handed it to you, “Well if you think of anything, please call me.”

You looked down at the card, “Sure thing, Mr. Wilson.” He nodded and left. 

As soon as he turned the corner you glanced at the clock on your phone. Five minutes left of your break. You didn’t waste a second, you picked up your phone and called James. 

“Hi dad!” You smiled, even though no one was watching you, when he answered. 

_‘What?’_ James was completely confused.

“Oh nothing, I just wanted to call you before I got back to work.” 

_‘Is something wrong?’_ He started to panic. 

“Everything’s great. I just gotta stop by the pharmacy after work to pick up some medicine. Oh! While I’m there, I can prolly print out those old pics of you from the Army that you wanted.” 

_‘Someone was looking for me?’_ He picked up on your hints.

“Yea, the ones with your old Army buddies?” 

_‘...Act normal. When you get off work, stop by the pharmacy. Don’t call me or text me. I’ll meet you at home.’_ He hung up.

“Of course, dad! Yea, I gotta go, lunch break is over. Love you.” You pretended to hang up and set your phone in your purse. 

You could barely concentrate on work for the rest of the day. You were even snappy when you had to interact with coworkers. In fact, you couldn’t have been more glad when you clocked out, having to school your steps so that you weren’t running. You did as James suggested, stopping by the in-store pharmacy before heading home. 

As you started to unlock the door, James quickly opened it and pulled you inside. “Were you followed?”

“Uh, I don’t think so…” You answered, caught between uncertainty and apprehension. You had honestly looked over your shoulder a few times to make sure you weren’t being followed but you could never be certain. 

“Good,” he said as he both locked the door and looked out the peephole. “How many men were looking for me?” He turned to you before you could even ask what was going.

“Just the one,” You handed him the business card Sam Wilson wrote his name and number on. “Do you know him?” Maybe the man was telling the truth, maybe he just wanted to help James.

James narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brows as he stared at the card, “No...What did he look like?” 

“Black dude about your height, goatee, short hair,” here you shrugged, not remembering the man having a fade, “didn’t look standard though. So I guess not active military, but he definitely had the vibe, you know?” 

James winced pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment, his left hand crumpling the business card.e. “Maybe you should sit down?” You softly touched right forearm. He just shook his head, dropping the business card, “No. I’m fine.” He pushed your hand away, gently, “I cancelled my phone.”

“Uhm. Okay.” He had a pay by the use phone in the first place, was it really necessary to cancel it?

“I’ll contact you when I’m sure they’re not looking for me anymore.”

“Wait, what?” Was he leaving? “What’s going on?” You asked, touching his arm again, making him look at you. 

“There are people are looking for me-”

“Why?”

He sighed, “I can’t tell you-”

“Bullshit you can’t tell me!” 

A small smile tugged at his lips, “Will you stop interrupting me?” 

You rolled your eyes, this really wasn’t the time. “Just tell me clearly, who was that guy? Why was he looking for you? Why do think you have to leave?”

His smile fell, “All I can tell you-”

“No, fuck you! Tell me the truth!” You yelled, frustration and panic building up. When did James become so important to you? When had you let your walls fall? Why did just the thought of him leaving make you so distressed? 

James looked at you, at your wide eyes, and nodded, pushing you further into the living room, to the couch. “It’s got to do with my arm.” He said as the two of you took a seat facing each other. He looked down at his left hand, moving it as if to test it’s realness. 

You waited for him to elaborate, though it took a few seconds for him to either gather his thoughts or to think of a lie. At this point, you weren’t certain anymore. “I just have to leave, I can’t let them find you.”

You shook your head vigorously, that wasn’t an acceptable answer. “Who's “they”?” 

He looked up from his hand, confusion and dread, “I don’t know.”

“What? What do you mean you don’t know?” You touched his knee as you leaned forward, trying to read him more clearly.

“I can’t tell you, because I don’t know either.” He answered, as far as you could tell, truthfully. His right hand went to his temple in an attempt to alleviate the pounding headache. You put hand atop of his, looking in his eyes when he opened them, “I can help you. Or I can help you find someone to help you. You don’t have to do this alone.” You said softly. Whatever this mental breakdown was, you were determined to help him. He was doing so well before. A few nightmares, to be expected, but he was making so much progress. 

James stood up, pulled you with him, and surprised you by wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. You stood still for a moment, processing what he was doing. He had never allowed you so close before. Touches between the two of you were usually accidental brushes, nothing direct. You didn’t question it though, you quickly returned the hug, holding him tight as if it would stop him from leaving. You felt his right hand in your hair as you buried your face in his chest. You knew he was taller than you, bigger than you, but with him holding you like this, you were made acutely aware of the size difference between the two of you. His left arm around your back was surprisingly gentle, you expected a hug from him to be crushing, but it felt normal, safe. 

“I’ll come back when I’m sure they’re not looking for me anymore. I promise, doll.” 

You shook your head and looked up at him, not breaking the embrace. “You don’t have to leave.” You whispered, lips beginning to tremble.

He released you, though your arms remained wrapped around his torso. “Lock the door behind me.” He pried your hands from him, gave your arms one affectionate stroke, and left, quickly closing the door behind him. You were only a step behind him, throwing the door open just as quickly but not seeing him anywhere in sight. “Fucking ninja!” You yelled, frustrated, concerned, and despondent all at once. 

You closed the door, locking it more out of habit than because he told you to, and hoped that you had done the right thing. All you could do was hope he’d be safe, he’d recover, and, maybe that he’d return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaat? Omg, James! Such a drama queen, leaving after one person looks for you like that!


	26. May-June: Alone and Almost up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you so much for the comments and kudos! And sorry if this chapter is a little short. I tried to make it a little longer, but it just didn't feel right, so I mushed two chapters into one.

May 3rd: Alone

It had been nearly a month since James up and left. His, what you assumed, final paycheck had arrived last week and was sitting on the counter ever since. You’d stare at the name every time you walked by and even though you knew Alexander Volkov wasn’t his real name, it still felt like slicing open a fresh wound. 

You frowned as you leaned against the counter, sipping on a cool drink to help fight off the summer heat. Part of you wanted to be spiteful, to cash James’ check and use the money to blast the costly A/C for your own comfort. But if people were looking for him then they would probably find his alias and if you cashed his check, that would lead back to you. That was, if more than one person really was looking for him. As far as you knew it was only that Sam Wilson that was looking for him and he didn’t exactly seem like a bad guy. You sighed, whatever. That wasn’t your problem. Not anymore. Not since James left. 

June 20th: Almost up  


Another month had nearly passed and still no word from James. At this point you had given up on ever seeing him again, the guilt that was gnawing at your insides made it difficult to sleep. Work was fine, you could lose yourself in your work for eight hours a day. Nights and weekends were starting to weigh on you, however. Your apartment was spotless as you’d taken to rigorously cleaning. 

You sat on your knees as you organized the small shelf where you stored important papers. A copy of your lease, embarrassingly a bit dusty, held loosely in your hands. You scanned it, just for the hell of it, and were reminded that the lease was up in August. Normally you’d just renew it, as you had done in the past few years, but...maybe you should move? The weather in Canada can’t be that bad, right?

Whatever you decided, you had to take care of one thing first. You swiped a crumpled business card from the same shelf the lease had been sitting. You dialed the number on the back of the card and waited, three rings followed by a _“Hello?”_

“Ahm, Mr. Wilson?” You gave him your name, though you suspected he knew you’d call him eventually, “I might have some, old, information about that Bucky Barnes you were looking for.” 

_“Oh yea? Is there a place and time you’d like to meet?”_

You shook your head, despite the fact that he couldn’t see it. “No. I don’t want to meet. I just, I mean, if you’re looking for him. He used to stay at the Sunset motel.” 

_“Used to? Where is he now?”_

You shrugged, “I don’t know. I’m worried about him though…”

 _“Don’t worry, we just want to help him. Anything else you can tell me?”_

After a few moments of hesitation you answered, “Alexander Volkov.” 

_“What? Who is that?”_ Sam sounded really concerned, probably thinking that a new player had entered this game he was in. 

“He was using a fake name. That’s him.” 

Obviously this piece of information was new to him. _“Thank you, thanks. We can use every bit of information you can think of.”_

If he was going to say more, you didn’t let him. “That’s all I got. I didn’t know him very well.” That wasn’t even a lie. 

_“Well if you think of anything else-”_

“No.” You started firmly. “Nothing else. And don’t contact me again. Don’t show up at my workplace, don’t follow me on the way home, don’t show up at my apartment.” Not like it was going to remain your apartment for very long. 

You didn’t give him a chance to reply or ask anymore questions. You hung up and turned off your phone. With a sigh you resolved that you might have to do like James and drop your current number. Not that it mattered much, you learned long ago that it did no good to try to maintain thin relations over long distances.


	27. July 1st: Never look back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos! Glad y'all are sticking with me even through the depressing part!  
> And: Did y'all see it?! The Civil War trailer?! It tore me apart in so many ways!  
> Also, Happy Thanksgiving to all my American readers!

Since having decided to move come August, you had put in your notice and started cashing in vacation time, of which you had one week (yea, you might’ve used your vacation time for sick days, but all’s well). You woke up today in a rather sour mood, having had your sleep disturbed by kids popping fireworks, mostly Black Cats as the showier fireworks were usually saved for the 4th. The lack of sleep combined with the fact that you’d always fallen into a depression around early July, actually made the task of deciding what to keep and what to get rid of rather easy. For most of the morning, if it wasn’t essential then it promptly got tossed into the “throw it away” pile. 

By the afternoon, you were, very slowly, moving one box up and down from your apartment to dumpster. Bitterly you thought how much easier this would have been if James was still around. Then the very thought itself made you bitter all over again. Sure after you left home, right after turning eighteen, you had friends you could depend on. But you left that all behind when you moved to New York. You’d become independent, even considered yourself strong, and here you were wishing there was a strong man around to help you. 

_Not just any man. James._ This was something that you knew in the deepest part of your heart, but you shook your head. “Make a decision and stick with it, no turning back, no stopping.” You told yourself, repeating the mantra you had taken since entering adulthood. 

_There’s absolutely no reason why I can’t just stop._

_Other than the fact that I already let the lease go and would have nowhere to live next month._

_The apartment hasn’t been rented out to anyone. I can always sign a new lease._

_Yea. At a higher rate._

You continued to argue with yourself, not even hearing someone calling your name until they had repeated it twice more. You knew that voice and turned to face the man, glaring at him. “I thought I told you to leave me alone.” 

“A little late for spring cleaning, isn’t?” Sam smiled, though you were unsure if he actually thought his quip was funny or if he trying to earn your trust. 

“In fact, I’m pretty sure I did tell you to leave me alone.” 

He held his hands up in defense, though you were both certain you could do nothing but spit nasty words at him. Then he glanced around — _‘Cuz you totally need another paranoid man hanging around you.’ _— and lowered his voice. “Look, I know you don’t want to see me right now. But I need your help.”__

__You scoffed and rolled your eyes, “No.” You turned, heading back upstairs._ _

__“Even if it’ll help Bucky?”_ _

__You paused mid step and glanced over your shoulder. “How?”_ _

__He shook his head, his hands now down at his sides again, “Not here.”_ _

__…_ _

__You blinked, fighting an internal discussion that could very well go on for forever. He could be dangerous. But, hell, at this rate, you were starting to think you could overlook that. He could be lying. After all, it was his very appearance that sent James to the wind in the first place. But, if he could find, and help, James?_ _

__

__“I better not regret this. Inside alright?”_ _

__Sam smiled again, closing the distance so he could walk next to you._ _

__“You can help me throw shit away while you’re at it.” You added with a small bit of spite._ _


	28. July 1st: Denial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos! And for those of you who left comments, thank you so much and I know I usually respond to comments, but this part of the story was a bit hard to plan out, even my notes and outlines were all scratches, and I needed the comments "unread" in my inbox to keep inspiring me, otherwise I would have tossed the fic :p But honestly, I appreciate all the comments and kudos very much!

You rolled your eyes and shook your head before Sam even finished talking. “No way.” 

He opened his mouth to protest, to ask you again, to plead, but you just shook your head. “It’s not going to work anyways. There’s a little flaw in your plan. You seem to think me and James are best friends. I wasn’t lying when I told you that I don’t know him very well. I don’t even know why you keep calling him Bucky. Maybe his real name is Alexander. Or maybe it’s James. I don’t even know.” You shrugged as you angrily tossed more junk into a trash bag. 

“Look, you might not have known him too well, but he cares about you.” He was fiddling with his phone again, and part of you was worried he was calling in backup or something. 

Still, you acted like you weren’t concerned. “Bull.” You replied, throwing away a cute little trinket of a cat that you were actually quite fond of.

Sam placed his phone on the counter and motioned towards it, “Do you want to know how we found you?”

You paused just as you were about to throw away a decorative pillow, having run out of actual junk to throw away in your anger and now you were just getting rid of near everything. You eyed him warily and moved to the counter, looking at the picture he pulled up. It looked like a surveillance photo and your eyes narrowed, “You were stalking me?”

Whoever Sam dealt with on a regular basis must be quite something if he was taking your terrible attitude in stride. He just laughed, “We were looking for Bucky. James.” He nodded towards the picture again, “That’s the only clear image of him we were able to get. Took months of surveillance across the States to finally get that.”

If you weren’t so ~~hurt~~ angry you’d think it was a cute picture. Based on the landmarks you could make out and the direction you were walking, you were heading home from work. Center of the photo was you, facing whatever camera had taken the photo, with a wide and open smile. James was next to you, his profile clear despite the baseball cap he wore. You supposed that was why you had been found, facial recognition, at least in movies, could probably identify him. 

“He let his guard down around you. Whether you want to see it or not, he’s different around you.” 

You frowned at Sam’s words, believing him and yet not wanting to believe him at the same time. You sighed quietly, “It’s still not going to work. I honestly don’t know where he is.” You were starting to lose some of the bite to your words.

“I know where he is.” Sam replied, making you raise your eyebrows in surprise. 

“Whoa, wait if you know where is, then why do you need me?” You asked incredulously. 

“He won’t answer, or come to me. Look, you said yourself that he told you he wanted to be sure he wasn’t being followed right? I have a feeling he’s watching at least this apartment.” 

Well, that did make sense you supposed…

“I still dunno…” You murmured. 

His plan sounded kind of dangerous. You, at the center of it, would essentially allow yourself to be kidnapped. You might not be an extremely physically strong person, but you weren’t sure you could just allow yourself to be taken without putting up a fight. Of course it would be agents of the Avengers that would “kidnap” you, thus in theory you were perfectly safe. 

“Think about it.” Sam said, clearly seeing the distress on your face. You sighed and shook your head, “No. I won’t do it. Even if he is watching, I can’t.”

You shook your head again, this time more vigorously, “ _Especially_ if he’s watching.” You emphasized, though couldn’t bring yourself to admit just why out loud. To act like you were in danger knowing that James would likely rush in to save you...you ~~couldn’t~~ didn’t want to betray him like that. 

Sam relented, telling you that he’d stay in touch, despite your request not to, and that if James showed up himself to call him. You wouldn’t. He knew that but still had to ask.


	29. July 4th: More Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Violence and implications of suicide in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day! The last one was kinda short anyways. I think this one is about average for this story. But after I worked out some excess imagination with a one shot, the words for this fic started flowing.

It was nearing the end of the week, your apartment was nearly empty at this point. Even the couch, bed, television and coffee table were gone; you were sleeping on a pile of blankets. Thankfully the one of the ladies down stairs was a bit of a hoarder— though her children often held “garage” sales in order to alleviate their mother’s habit— and was willing to buy the couch and coffee table. You had to pay someone to get rid of the bed, no one wanted a used a bed, after all. With the money from your savings a what few things you sold, you were even able to buy a used car. Just something someone posted online, years old and with some miles, but working well enough to get you to...well, wherever you were going. 

Without furniture, even your tiny apartment seemed quite spacious. All you had left to do was pack up the rest of the kitchen, which you decided, along with your clothes, would be last. Since you still had two and half weeks left of work. 

It was the middle of the day, you were laying on your back on a comforter in the living room. It had, after all, been an exhausting and busy week. The sound of three sudden, and loud, knocks startled you from your nap. 

You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked at the door, if you didn’t know any better, you’d say that was a cop knock. Well, maybe it was the cops? This was a questionable district, after all. After another three loud knocks you sighed and pushed yourself up, glad that no one could see the less than graceful move. 

Checking the peephole confused you even more, however. Those weren’t cops. While what men you could see were dressed in tactical gear, odd even for this part of the city, there were no identifying marks on their uniforms. No big white “Police” or “NYPD”. You frowned and tiptoed back to where you had been laying down, grabbing your phone and quickly dialing Sam.

As soon as the line picked up you spoke, not even giving the man time to say hello. “Sam, I thought I told you I don’t want to be apart of your stupid plan?” You snapped, having to raise your voice a little over the sound of more aggressive thudding, this wasn’t a knock, but from the way the door shook on its hinges, they were ramming the door down. .

He must’ve heard the knocking. “Don’t answer the door, I’ll be right there!” 

With a final **Bang!** the wooden door shattered, bits of wood being flung all over the place and you screamed, dropping your phone from surprise, the back popping off and the battery flying out. As you were rushed by armed and armored men, a part of the back of your mind cynically criticized you for not having a case on your phone. 

Instinctively you raised your hands, showing yourself unarmed and willing to cooperate. One of the men roughly grabbed your arm, didn’t even say anything, and started dragging you out. You tried to resist, tried to plant your bare feet, tried to pull your arm from his grasp but he was too strong. “Hey! You can’t do this! This is illegal! Police brutality!” You were yelling, “I want my lawyer!” Anything to get them to let you go. 

Tired of your antics, the man grabbed your other arm and picked you up, frighteningly easily, and his comrades leaned back to dodge the kicks you sent flying. At the door you up a final struggle, planting your feet against the door frame but it only took seconds for the men to overpower you and push you out. As you were carried down the stairs, you saw a few of your neighbors peek out, some even attempted to stop the attack, but they were all threatened with automatic weapons and silenced pretty quickly. Like thunder, the sudden booming and whirling of a helicopter drowned out your screams. You looked up in awe, stilling your struggle in wonderment. It wasn’t a helicopter, rather some kind of carrier jet. “I think you guys have the wrong person!” You yelled over the jet engines.

You started to struggle again when you noticed the armored men start filing into the jet, the man carrying you to the same destination. Though you weren’t wearing any shoes, you flug you foot back, hoping to catch the man in his crotch. You missed, hitting his inner thigh instead but it was enough to make him falter, your feet hitting cement again. 

**Bratatat!**

A barrage of aerial fire caused the men to scatter, some into the jet. You screamed again, trying to cover your head and get down as close as possible to the ground at the same time. The man holding you was making it difficult, however. He hoisted you up by one arm, and in this motion you caught sight of a strangely armored man swooping down in a dive and firing mini uzis. 

“The Avengers!” One of the men yelled, aiming down the sights of an M4 at the flying man.

Before he could fire, however, he was knocked aside by an Iron Man unit, a large metal one with a gatling gun strapped to his back. 

“Stand down!” The Iron Man unit’s mask opened, revealing both that it wasn’t a unit— a suit, in fact— and the face of a man you recognized from the news whenever Tony Stark did something as Iron Man. Colonel Rhodes. 

To emphasize his order, Sam— who you now realized was the flying man from before— landed next to Rhodes, along with four Iron Man units. 

You looked at the man holding you, he was now standing stiff, his free hand on his ear, probably listening to orders of his own through a com device. He shouted something in a language you weren’t familiar with and turned sharply, scrapping your bare feet painfully against the concrete. But he abruptly let go when someone tackled the man from behind. All three of you went sprawling on the ground, the sound of gunfire echoed around you. You flinched when a bullet hit the concrete a few meters from you, it was then that you decided you needed to get to cover.

Trying to get to your feet, and remain low at the same time, you saw that your savior was James. His metal hand easily ripping the M4 from your abductor's hand. There was more shouting in the foreign language— was that Russian? — and more gunfire. Seeing a nearby car, you rushed towards it, trying to keep low. A stray bullet hit the trunk of the car, and you flinched. Still, it was probably best to get some cover. As you reached the other side of the car, the side you deemed safe as there were no bullets flying from the direction, you kneeled down by the driver side door. When had your shirt gotten wet? Was it sweat? You looked down, the light gray shirt was stained with red.

Oh shit. 

You stumbled, maybe you should just sit down. You risked a glance over at where James, or Bucky or whatever his name was, was still fighting. But apparently the Iron Man units has successfully captured the rest of the soldiers. Your vision was doing a weird dance, sometimes there were strange moments of clarity, sometimes your vision was so blurry you couldn't see a foot in front of you.

Now even the man that James was fighting was subdued, one of the Iron Man units holding him. 

You heard your name called, though you couldn’t tell whose voice it was, you couldn’t even understand the rest of the sentence. You just shook your head and looked down at your hands, which were holding your left side like they could prevent the life from falling out of you. You lifted your hand a little, looking at the strikingly bright red and warm liquid that covered it.

“No. I think I’m gonna die.” You muttered with a quiet chortle. How fitting that you die on the 4th. 

James rushed to your side, calling your name again as he kneeled down next to you, “Don’t worry, you’re gonna be OK.” He repeated. Why didn’t it sound like he believed it? 

_Blink.  
Your dad, with his constantly clean shaven face and buzzed hair, kneeled down in front of you. He smiled, teeth impeccably white and eyes shining with love, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I got you.” _

James lifted you up with ease, being careful not to jostle left side too much. He yelled something, but his voice wasn’t loud enough to hear. How can someone yell and mumble at the same time? 

_Blink.  
Now your dad was swinging you around. You wanted to laugh. Helicopter!_

You lost the sensation of vertigo as you felt yourself placed down on the ground. Or was a it a bed? A bench? Something. 

_Blink.  
Your vision was filled with dull brownish red. Some bits of dangly stuff on the walls were still a vibrant red, but would surely dull as they continued to slide down the wall. His face, his face was still intact. But you could see an angry gaping hole at the top of his head, bits of skull sticking out at jagged angles. _ You wanted to scream, like you did back then, but you didn’t have the strength.

James looked at you as you struggled to keep your eyes open, almost like when you tried to stay up to finish a particularly long movie. He called your name, though you showed no signs of responding to him. Whatever you were looking at, it wasn’t him. 

“I’m sorry, Dad.” You coughed, feeling sharp hot pain at your side again.

 _Blink._  
It was too much effort to open your eyes again.


	30. July 4th: Sedative

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might be procrastinating with the next chapter, this is the result of that procrastination...Expect the real chapter soon.

Voices. You could faintly hear voices, muffled by the pounding headache thundering behind your eyes. Attempting to concentrate on the voices did nothing to help you forget the headache. Nor did opening your eyes. While you had expected blindingly bright lights, someone had the sense to dim them, but your vision was blurred.

There was a woman talking. Nano..nanties? Something, why was everyone mumbling all of a sudden? Blinking a few more times, though your eyes remained narrowed against the onslaught of light (no matter how dim it was), your vision cleared enough to see where you were. The ceiling was no hint, what was that noise? As you looked down your nose, fear gripped your heart. It became difficult to breath.

There was a machine settled over you, most of it constructed of a thin metal arm, what frightened you, however, was the buzzing that produced blue lasers that were burning into your skin. You gasped, your lungs forcing your breath despite your fear, and abruptly sat up, pulling at the nasal cannula frantically, worrying loose the IV in your arm at the same time. 

Your sudden and panicked awakening made those in the room, four figures was all you could make out at this point, to run in your direction. You felt yourself being held down. James, you could see his face. His blue eyes wide and he was saying something. You struggled to get up, but something wouldn’t let you. 

“No!” You gasped for breath, “Fucking!” Tears were streaming down your face as you continued to struggle against fear, “Aliens!” 

Another gasp and your vision was filled with black dots. One more breath and you felt yourself to go limp, trying to fight the sudden drowsiness that you knew to be artificial. Silence.

Bucky looked up at the woman, “What did you do?!” He demanded once you stopped struggling against him. He straightened, ready to cross the small space that separated them but Steve’s hand on his right shoulder stopped him.

“I administered a sedative. She’s fine, just asleep.” The doctor reassured him while she fixed the loose IV and cannula, aware that the Winter Soldier was watching her every move.

Sam was the first to speak up after Dr. Cho explained the sedative, “...Did she say aliens?” Even Bucky couldn’t help the small smile that threatened to pull at his lips.


	31. July 4th: The stuff we don’t talk about

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Soon" took longer than I thought lol. To be fair, I've been sitting on the rough draft for this chapter for ages. It was one of the first parts of this story that I wrote. And this is the longest chapter yet. As always, thank you soo much for all your encouragement, I don't think I would have remained so faithfully to this story if weren't for the support from everyone.

You woke up a few hours later, the initial panic at waking up in an unfamiliar room vanished when you saw a familiar figure lounging in a chair next to you. You sighed, if anything, James would never let himself fall asleep if he thought there was some kind of danger. Still, you looked around the room and weren’t sure what to call it. It lacked the distinctive smell of a hospital but you were in a hospital bed, you were even connected to an IV drip. One of the bags contained blood, the other a clear liquid that you assumed was mostly water to help with any dehydration. 

Blood? Yea, now that you thought about it, you did remember losing quite a bit of blood. Carefully, not wanting to pull out any stitches, you raised you flimsy hospital gown to get a look at your left side. Nothing. Huh? Did you remember wrong? Possibly, who knows how cognisant you are when you’re losing blood by the second. You shifted to get a look at your right side. Nothing again...That’s weird. You definitely remember getting shot…

Another memory rose in your mind, of of blue little lasers and buzzing, and you started to panic. What was that?! “James!” You yelled, startling the man awake. He practically jumped up from the stiff looking chair and leaned over the bed, “What’s wrong? Are you OK?” 

You shook your head, “What happened? Where are we? Did I die?” Then you glanced around, eyes moving frantically over every corner of the room, “Are we,” your voice dropped to a whisper, “still in New York?” 

A grin played at his lips, “No aliens, doll.” 

You ignored the look he gave you, like he was holding back a laugh, when you sighed, evidently relieved. “Then what happened? I coulda sworn I got shot...Oh, don’t tell me I just fainted when _someone else_ got hurt?” 

At the mention of this, James immediately sobered, standing straight instead of hovering over you. “You did. They have the tech here to fix you up without even a scar.” 

Although this short explanation only raised a dozen more questions in your mind, you settled on one thought. “Ok, where’re my clothes? I needa get outta here.” You said, pushing yourself up and swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. 

James, already at your side, put his hands on your shoulders to try to ease you back down. “You’re fine here, for now.” 

You pushed his hands away, though didn’t make any other movements. Finding a clock on the wall, you squinted to read it, for the light was too dim to read easily. 10:15ish. “Is it still the 4th?” 

James nodded. Then it was ten at night.

“Yea, no. I can’t stay here. Pretty sure my crappy ass insurance doesn’t cover half of the treatment I got. I can’t afford to let them charge me another day.” 

He shook his head, “I don’t think they’re going to charge you. We’re at the Avengers tower.”

You furrowed your brows. The Avengers. Vaguely you remembered one of the assailants yelled something about the Avengers, but you didn’t recognize the costumes of whatever heros saved you. “Aw man! You mean I can actually say I got saved by the Avengers but I got the B Team?” Although you crossed your arms with a pout, you were already composing a Tweet among similar lines, wondering if the Avengers kept up with social media.

You looked at James, his scruffy face impassive, and shrugged. “By the way,” you started, getting his attention again, “Thank you.”

He tilted his head slightly, one eyebrow raising in question. “For what?”

You smiled, “For saving me too. I saw you out there fighting that big guy that grabbed me.” 

James nodded once but looked away, taking his seat in the chair off to the side again. Things were quiet for so long that you started to drift off to sleep again. “I’m sorry.” His voice was gruff, heavy with sorrow.

It took you a moment to process what he said, though you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “Hmm?” 

He looked up, “For everything that happened. It’s my fault.”

Nothing you say could dissuade of him of the fact and you didn’t have the energy to argue, so you just gave him a quiet hum and nodded, closing your eyes and making yourself comfortable. That apparently, wasn’t the the right reaction, however. 

“That’s it?” He almost sounded bitter.

You cracked open one eye and shrugged, “Did you think I would be mad at you? Maybe you are more involved in whatever happened than I know, but I still don’t blame you for me getting hurt.” 

James didn’t know how to respond, as he just continued to sit there, his elbows propped on his knees, with a contemplative look on his face. “If it makes you feel better, though, I didn’t believe you when you said people were looking for you. Or at least, I didn’t think anyone that actually was looking for you was dangerous. But, now I know you’re not just crazy.” 

Something between a frown and a grin crossed his face, like he wasn’t sure whether or not to take your light hearted admission seriously. In fact, for a moment he envied you for being able to adjust so quickly, then realized that though you appeared nonchalant there was a certain tightness when you closed your eyes that gave lie to your facade. He stood up, deliberately making noise so as not to startle you, “You still shouldn’t have gotten hurt.”  


You shrugged, “What happened, happened. You can either clear things up for me or keep sitting there till the Avengers come to check up on me.”

And he realized what the uneasiness he saw in you was. You didn’t know why you had been attacked and it bothered you. Of course it did, who wouldn’t it bother? “It was Hydra. I don’t know how they found you, but I don’t doubt they meant to use to get me to go them.”

Your brows furrowed. “Hydra…” Why did that sound familiar? You glanced around the room, looking for your phone— forgetting that you had dropped it during the initial attack— but when you saw no sign of it you were forced to rely on your own memory rather than Google. After a moment it clicked, just thinking of Google itself made you remember reading a bunch of leaked files before the government, or someone, cleaned it all up. “Hydra? The people who used to be Shield, somehow?” And were the very reason the Avengers had been formed in Shield’s place.

James nodded, “They made me.”

You sat up straight and leaned towards him, “Whoa, wait. What do you mean they _made_ you?” 

He raised his left arm and flexed his hand. You had always wondered about his metal arm, but given that you told him you weren’t going to ask any questions, you always held the question back. “They made your arm?” 

He nodded, put his arm back down and continued, “I was in the Army. My last mission went wrong. I was injured, broke my arm so bad that it was lost. Hydra found me, did this,” he moved his hand again, looking at it in disgust, “And forced me to kill for them.” He sneered at no one, perhaps at the memory, and you just staring at him did nothing to make himself feel better. 

Finally you reacted by moving to the side of the bed and throwing your feet over the edge. It was a simple enough explanation, and you had a feeling he was holding back a lot more. Still, though the scowl on his face should have scared you away, you gingerly took his hands, both of them, in yours and pulled him towards the bed, making him sit down next to you. 

You said nothing, but the look in your eyes was comforting enough that he spoke again. “I killed before Hydra. I was a sniper. I was in war. I _had_ to. Even if they were Nazi soldiers, even if they were killing my friends, I always felt...guilty, terrible even, for killing them.” 

He looked at you, blue eyes shimmering with said guilt that you bit back your question about Nazis. “But Hydra did something to me,” he winced slightly and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know what they did, or how they did it, but they stopped me from _feeling_ anything at all. Sometimes I can still see fragments of people, of me killing them, but I felt _nothing_ when I was with Hydra.” 

Your frowned, both at the look of utter misery in his eyes and his words. Taking his right hand, the one nearest to you, in your own you offered a gentle and reassuring squeeze. “You weren’t _with_ them. They forced you to, to do that stuff.” But even as you spoke you knew nothing you say could quell the guilt in his heart, much the same as no one could ever convince you that were not responsible for some death in the world. 

“Since you’re telling me this…” You started, unsure if he was willing to answer your questions or if he was going to retreat into his distorted memories.

He grunted, “What?”

“Nazis?” You asked, wide eyed and curious.

James frowned and rubbed his left temple, “Yea. Hydra had something to do with that too. I don’t know how they did it either. I was born in 1917.” 

You dropped his hand and pulled your own hand back to your chest, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “What?” 1917? 

He looked at you when you let go of him, confusion and hurt crossing his face. He opened his mouth, about to respond, but you were shaking your head quite vigorously. “Wait, wait, wait. James Barnes. And Sam kept calling you Bucky. And Sam’s an Avenger. And the Avenger boss is Captain America. And Captain America’s best friend died in World War II. And his friend’s name was James Buchanan Barnes. But Captain America was frozen before the end of World War II.” 

James nodded, “Hydra did that to me too.” 

Your jaw dropped, “Do they know?”

“Who? Hydra?”

“No! I mean, Hydra would know, obviously.” 

“Who's they?”

“I dunno!” You waved your hands, “The general ‘they’! Like the people who wrote the history books! I learned about you in school! And every book said you died and your death drove Captain America to fight the Nazi’s even harder!” 

With a half heart felt smile, mostly finding amusement in your reaction, he shook his head. “I think you’re one of the few people that actually knows, doll.”

He didn’t know it was possible, but your eyes actually widened even more. At this point you were starting to remind him of a fish, what with those wide eyes and your jaw hanging down like that. Then suddenly you became all too somber, your features relaxed into a doleful expression he wasn’t sure he liked all too much. 

“Well, shit,” you muttered, brows furrowing. “One of the pictures that Sam showed me looked pretty recent. I mean, I think he tried to limit just how much destruction was there, but I could still see it. And you…” You had a hard time believing that the James you knew (though really, how well could you say you actually knew him?) could so easily cause chaos and destruction. “How long did Hydra, how long?” You started to stutter, unsure how to phrase the question.

“Last year. They made me... Steve was there. My mission...” James was speaking in fragments, his eyes shut so tight you wouldn’t be surprised if his face was wrinkled when he opened them. You nudged him to break him out of his thoughts. Though you had no words. Last year. That meant he was Hydra’s captive, their puppet, for something like seventy years. What were you supposed to say to that? 

“...That’s why sometimes you talk like you just got finished watching Casablanca...”

James, no longer dwelling on the past because of your odd statement, looked at you, baffled. “What?”

You grinned, “Yea, especially when we first met. You said some strange shit. Even now, you just called me “doll”. Who says that?” 

He smiled slightly, “I guess I never noticed.”

“Of course not. No one notices their own speech patterns until someone else mentions them.” 

He hummed and watched as you boldly reached over and grabbed his left hand. When he stiffened to pull away, you sent him a stern look, “Chill.” You ignored the glare he sent you, your curiosity getting the best of you, as you lightly ran a fingers up his arm. Your hand jolted a little as your fingers slid past the panels of his arm. “Can you feel that?”

James shrugged, “I can feel the difference in pressure.” 

“Can you tell if my hands are cold?”

He shook his head. You pressed the heel of your palm to his, holding both of your hands up. Your hand was so small in his and he was tempted to just move his hand a little and lace his fingers with yours. “Hey, if you were born in 1917, do you know what that means?”

You glanced at him with a smirk. He didn’t answer, just raised a brow in question.  
“It means you’re older than my grandparents. Like, all of them.” You laughed as he rolled his eyes and pulled his hand back, “I guess it makes sense.” You said as your laughter died down.

“What does?”

You shrugged, “I was always into older guys.” You sucked in a sharp breath. Shit. You weren’t supposed to say that outloud. Without even looking at him you could see the wide grin on James’ face. “Oh yea? You’re into older men?” 

You scoffed, “Pfft. Nope. I didn’t say that. You need to get your hearing checked, _old man_.” 

“What!” He said with fake indignation, “Come here, you little punk!” He pulled you close by one arm and ruffled your hair with his free hand, “Didn’t your parents ever teach you to respect your elders?” You squealed and struggled weakly against him, until you tapped his arm twice and he let go. 

Still laughing, as was he, you did your best to straighten out your rumbled clothes and hair. The hospital gown was easy enough to smooth out. Your hair, on the other hand, was more than a little tangled, what with everything that happened, you weren’t all that surprised. Whenever whoever was in charge came back, you were going to ask for your clothes back and definitely a shower. 

While you were musing over this, James looked at you and cleared his throat, “I got a question for you, now.”

“Hm?” You asked, not really paying attention as you were trying to loosen a stubborn tangle.

“When you were,” he paused, “When you were hit and we were moving you, you said something to me. You said, “I’m sorry, Dad.” And then you passed out. What was that about?” 

Your hands fell to your lap, the almost seemingly ever present smile dropped and your eyes darkened. After a second, however, you blinked, put on another smile, and shrugged. “Hm, did I? No idea. The shit people say when they’re dying, huh?” 

Has that smile of yours— a smile he found so comforting before this moment— always been fake? What did that say of the serenity he felt when he was around you? For the second time since you’d woken, he felt aggrieved. Certainly the previously established relationship between the two of you didn’t include much sharing of the past, but he trusted you with everything and you couldn’t trust him? 

“I thought you said your father died when you were a kid.” James started in tones harsher than he’d ever used with you before.

“He did.” You stated matter of factly, moving away from James to sit properly on the bed, leaning against the pillows. Before James could ask more, you changed the subject. “I was thinking Seattle. I mean, after they let me go. They’re the Avengers, so I don’t think they’ll make me stay if I don’t want to.” 

Losing the physical contact with you vexed him for some reason. “After everything, all this, you’re still going to leave?” He tried not to let the pain—betrayal even— in his voice, but from the way you stiffened and looked away from him, he knew he failed.

You shrugged— _that shrug_ bothered him so much— and purposefully kept your gaze from him. “I really should. It’s safer. For both of us.” 

Then why bother telling him at all? Unless...the thought did nothing to sooth the rising anger. You weren’t planning on moving to Seattle at all. It was just a distraction, a lie, so if he did go looking for you, he wouldn’t find you. “I can protect you. I will. You don’t need to protect me. Do you honestly think anything you do, or anything from your past, can hurt me?”

You shrugged again, and again he found himself hating this forced nonchalance. Maybe if you told him, he would give up on you. You’d never see him again, but, it was better that way. No one would die that way. You lifted your gaze back in his direction and answered him in a low voice, almost a whisper. “I killed him.” 

A stunned silence passed in which the anger and confusion that had been rising in him died. “...Your father?”

You nodded then pulled you knees up to your chest, further distancing yourself from him. “I. I didn’t mean to. I just wanted...He was a hero, you know. Bronze Star. I was there for the ceremony. But it’s so hard to remember, I was only five.” You rested your forehead on your knees, and though this muffled your words, the room was so quiet that he could still hear you clearly. “All the other kids, their dads were always with them. I just wanted my dad to be with me.” Your voice hitched as you held back a whimper. “My mom told me not to, but I asked him to stay with us anyways. One summer...” on the 4th of July to be exact. 

You were sniffling, and he was sure from the way you rocked your head against your blanket clad knees that you were wiping away tears. “He uhm. He...After he was deployed and came back he just wasn’t the same…He...” 

There was a quiver in your voice that made him want to tell you to stop, if the memory was that painful then you didn’t have to answer. But before he could find the words you lifted your right hand, shaking as you did so, your pointer finger and thumb forming the shape of gun, and put your hand to your temple. You then ‘pulled’ the trigger. You closed your eyes and a sob— one you didn’t bother to, or simply couldn’t, hold back— escaped you at the action. “I-I was the one that found him…”

James whispered your name, as if you’d break if he spoke any louder but you didn’t respond. Instead you only wept, emotions that you spent years holding back, hiding from even yourself, breaking through and overflowing. He tried to comfort you, as he had done for him, but you clung only to yourself, curled up in a ball, undeserving— in your own heart and mind— of the comfort anyone, even James who had somehow snuck past the walls you set up, could offer. 

Moving to your side was easy, as you had pulled yourself up so tight that you didn’t take up much space on the bed. He tried to get you to look at him, but stubbornly you refused to open yourself up. He wanted to blame himself for your current forlorn state, but he had no time to spare on pitying himself. With his right hand resting on your shoulder, shaking from the sobs that rocked your body, he called your name for the umpteenth time. He didn’t know how long he’d been trying to console you, but finally you looked at him. More like glanced at really, through your eyelashes in such a timorous manner that he was was scared to say the wrong thing, lest you go back to the not so silent suffering. 

Still, he dared to coax you a little more. “Look at me,” though the demand should have been stern, it was gentle and far softer and he’d ever spoken in decades. 

You took a deep, steadying, breath and wiped your face with the back of your hand. Tears still stained your face, your eyes were red and puffy and occasionally you would sniffle. “It’s not your fault—” 

You scoffed, and part of him expected a sarcastic reply but none came. In that scoff, however, he heard something that you probably didn’t even mean to communicate. When he had told you how many people he killed, you didn’t try to convince him that he was blameless. You were supportive, but you didn’t argue with him. He decided then that he was going to follow your example. If you were stubbornly going to bear this weight upon your shoulders, then he would help you. 

“You want to leave, so I won’t die?” He asked gently, his hand moving from your shoulder to your back and rubbing soothing circles.

You nodded and rested your forehead on your knees again. Your father, Leyla, even Dipstick. All had met similar ends because of you. You should have known better to get close to James. It would just end in his death. 

“No. Look at me.” James said, he left hand touched your cheek. You leaned towards his hand, the cool metal soothing against your heated face. He wiped away a tear that fell down your cheek with his thumb. 

“If you want me to leave, then I will. You’ll never see me again. But don’t run away from me because you’re scared of losing me. I will never leave you, doll.” His voice was tight, he all but declared his intentions to you, but what he didn’t say was that he needed you. 

You tried to clean your face with the back of your hand again, your lips quivered as you looked at him and he found himself fearing your answer. You spoke no words, instead you hugged him, wrapping your arms around his neck and rested your head on his shoulder. A few tears still escaped you, and he could feel the droplets though his shirt, but returned the embrace nonetheless, tightly wrapping his arms around you. As your cries quieted and you relaxed in his arms, he realized something. Though you smiles may have been hiding your inner anguish, they weren’t fake. You needed to smile to get through your life, and unintentionally, it became so that he needed those smiles too. The two of you had more in common than he ever thought. He previously thought he was so attached to your innocence, to your naivete, but it was something else. In your own way, you were just as messed up as he was, and in that companionship he found comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprisingly, it was more difficult to get through Buck's part. I've mentioned before that I took some inspiration for the story from my dad, who was a Marine. I remember him telling me one time how when he was something like 22, he tried to save another Marine but by the time help arrived, it was too late. Stuff like that, my dad doesn't usually talk about. But anyways, I tried to incorporate what I noticed of my dad's reaction with Bucky's story.


	32. July 5th: The Avengers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I apologize for the long wait between updates. The holidays were crazy busy and I didn't have as much time to write as I thought. Things are finally settling down again. And, as always, thank you sooo much for the amazing comments and for leaving kudos!

It was near seven in the morning when he woke again. James was still holding you tight in his arms when a quiet knock at the door forced him to pull away from you. The knock and movement didn’t do anything more than stir you slightly, you groaned a bit, but once your head hit the pillow you were out again. He allowed himself a small smile for a moment before, with his lips in a tight line, he opened the door. Steve Rogers, Captain America, was standing there, looking just as grim as he was, with Doctor Cho behind him. 

“Morning, Buck.” Steve tried to sound cheerful. He had been hoping that since Bucky seemed fairly comfortable, if not anxious, the day before then he would still be willing to talk to him. Sam had pointed out that Bucky probably felt like he didn’t have a choice. It was either accept their presence or risk F/N dying. 

Judging from the way Bucky standing protectively in the doorway, Sam wasn’t wrong. Steve frowned at this. He had his friend back, and the same time, he never felt as separated from Bucky as he was now. He never expected the reunion to be easy, but this was— 

Dr. Cho cleared her throat. “I need to check on the patient.”

Bucky looked past Steve at the doctor and nodded once, stepping aside and letting them through. By then you were already starting to wake up, rubbing your eyes with one hand and stretching out the other arm. “How are you feeling, Miss L/N?”

You shrugged and mumbled an answer, “Hungry.” 

She smiled and chuckled, “Good. The return of a healthy appetite is always a good sign.” She continued to check your vitals, recommending you drink lots of liquids, all the while you sat hunched over, eyes fighting to stay open. “Are you usually this lethargic in the morning?” 

“Mmm, what time is it?” You muttered, squinting your eyes at the wall clock but unable to clearly see the numbers in the haze of fatigue that still gripped you.

“Seven.” She answered briskly. 

“Eh. Not really. But almost dying does something to you, you know.”

Surprisingly, Dr. Cho let out an understanding laugh. “Oh I know. I can prescribe you some anti-anxiety—” 

“Nah. I’m fine.” You interrupted her with a yawn. Honestly, you were just feeling emotionally drained, what with last night's confession. But she didn’t need to know that, and you’d get back to your normal self soon enough. 

“Well then, you’re free to go. I believe Captain Rogers wants to speak with you first, however.” 

“Of course.” You mumbled and looked over where James and Captain Rogers were staring intently at each other. 

Dr. Cho excused herself and left the three of you alone in the not-quite hospital room. Steve was the first to break the staring contest, looking at you with a sheepish smile. “I’m—” 

“Captain Rogers?” You interrupted sarcastically. 

He coughed, “Please, call me Steve.” 

You nodded and gave him your name (undoubtedly he already knew it). James remained silent, though he moved in front of your bed, not blocking your view of the tall blonde man, but clearly creating a barrier between you and Steve. 

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions.” He started, you nodded. “And we’ll answer all of them. But we’d like you to stay here. To make sure you’re safe.” 

He paused and you fidgeted, wondering if Sam warned him that you’d most likely resist. You glanced at James but he gave no indication, didn’t even take his eyes off Steve. After a moment you nodded, after all, you couldn’t very well go home now. Your door was in pieces, and a good portion of your stuff was probably already looted. 

Steve smiled, “Good. Before you meet everyone and we start explaining things, I can show you to a room and you can shower.” 

To fight off the nervousness that bubbled up when he mentioned meeting more people, you lifted your right arm to about shoulder level and turned your head, and sniffed audibly. 

“Do I smell that bad?”  
____

Despite wanting to spend at least half an hour in a hot shower, you washed quickly. You only had an hour before Captain Rogers returned and took you and James to the briefing. You dressed quickly too, paying little heed to how the cotton fabric of your new clothes (they looked to be standard issue work out clothes for a female Avenger, if the logo was anything to go by) clung uncomfortably to your still damp skin. Carelessly towel drying your hair, really just soaking up excess water, you exited the private bathroom. That’s right, you had a room with a private bathroom at the Avengers Tower. You supposed it wasn’t that special, as the room itself was quite small, as was the bathroom in fact, but still, it was more than you expected. 

James sat at the edge of your bed, feet planted on the ground and elbows propped on his knees. You frowned, it had been a while since you last saw him so grave. Then again, it had been a while since you’d seen him too. It felt like he’d been back for so much longer than just one day. You sat next to him, slipping on socks and a new pair of tennis shoes. 

Wordlessly James stood up and waited for you to follow him. Oddly, just as he had when Steve was showing you to the rooms, he made sure you were walking not only slightly behind him, but on his left side. Usually, if it could be helped, he would keep you at his right side. Now however... Either way, the walk to his room wasn’t long, no more than a few meters actually.

His room was pretty much an exact replica of yours. A single bed to one side of the room, a small dresser and a private bathroom. James locked the door after cursory glance around the room to make sure it was safe. As he grabbed the set of folded clothing on the bed, you kicked off your shoes and laid down on the bed. He didn’t say anything, didn’t even blink at you, just took his turn to shower. 

Just as you were getting bored with counting the dots on the ceiling, James came back into the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He still looked so...distant. Moving carefully, but deliberately, you sat next to him, taking his left side since he seemed to be comfortable with that all of a sudden. “You OK?”

He looked at you, “Doll, you’re the one that almost died.”

You rolled your eyes, “Yea, _almost_. But I have a feeling this ain’t about me.” 

James had the gall to glare at you, but you weren’t at all threatened by it, not after last night. You shrugged, “Hey, _you’re_ the one that wanted to get all close to me last night. I was ready to leave. But if you’re gonna go back to being like this, maybe I should go—” 

You were going to say, “go back to my room” but James quickly caught your hand, “Don’t.” He pleaded, eyes desperately searching yours for any indication that you were joking. Of course you were. 

“It’s Steve.” He started and looked at you with expant eyes. With a nod you sat back down, though he didn’t let go of your hand. “I know what they did to him, what he wanted, but when I try to remember him,” he winced, furrowing his brows and scrunching up his nose, “I just, can’t.” 

Prying your hand from his, you scooted to the head of the bed, moving the pillow aside and sitting on your knees.

“What’re you doing?”

Holding out a hand you motioned for him to lay down, “Come on. I have an idea.” 

Hesitantly he did as you said, laying his head down in your lap. You smiled and began to run your hands through his hair, “Sometimes, randomly, a tune will get stuck in my head. And I can’t remember any of the words. Usually, I remember the lyrics or the title of the song when I’m completely relaxed.” In the middle of a shower, or right at the edge of sleep most likely was when you’d get those little “Aha!” moments. 

He looked up at you, you still smiling at him, “I know you prolly haven’t had many chances to relax. But, at least now we’re safe, and we’re…” Seeing his eyes close you trialed off, not wanting to break his tranquility.

“...We’re together,” he finished.  
___

There wasn’t much in the briefing room besides a table and some chairs, a screen at the front of the room suggested that there was a projector somewhere. Other than that, the room was empty of furniture. There were two women already inside. One was a brunette, her hair in a neat bun, dressed in a white blouse and a pencil skirt. The other was a redhead, her straight and sleek hair feel about shoulder length. She concerned you much more than the other woman as she was wearing tactical gear; you thought you smelled a hint of gun oil in the air and no doubt it came from her. 

The two women rose as the three of you entered the room. “Maria, Natasha,” Steve nodded to the two women, placing the brunette’s name as Maria which meant the redhead was Natasha. “This is,” Steve paused and turned to look at James. For a moment he frowned and furrowed his eyebrows before he schooled his features. “This is Bucky Barnes. And Full/N.” 

Maria kept her greeting short, even turned her attention to Steve quickly. Natasha’s eyes, on the other hand, lingered on you for a moment. Her face was so impassive you couldn’t tell whether she was just sizing you up or whether she was judging your for hanging on so closely to James. Maria took a place at the head of the table, not sitting down, Natasha sat to her right and Steve to her left. James sat next to Steve and, of course, you sat to the other side of James. All three of them had files in front of them.

“Right. Since this meeting is to answer some of the questions you have, I’m going to start by telling you the men who attacked you were Hydra.” Maria started, looking directly at you. You just nodded, remember what James said the night before. 

“We’ve interrogated some of the men that were captured. They found you by following one of our agents.” This last sentence made her voice tight, probably not too thrilled about the fact.

You frowned, “Sam was stalking me and they were stalking Sam?” 

Natasha gave a quiet laugh while Steve and Maria both had small strained smiles. “Something like that.” Maria answered. 

“As for why they attacked you.” She opened the file in front of her, Steve and Natasha mimicked her actions. From your spot you could see a 4x6 picture of a Marine in dress uniform, the white peaked cap and midnight blue coat with red trim giving it away. It only took a second more for you to recognize that Marine as your father. You were able to swallow the gasp that tried to make its way out of your throat, but you couldn’t help the gut reaction to grab onto the nearest object, which just happened to be James’ left arm. He looked at you, brow raised. You just shook your head quietly, trying to pay attention to what Maria was saying.

“We double checked your background and while you have various military connections,” she continued, flipping the page up and going on about how neither your father nor your uncle (rather, she called him Lance Corporal Miller, who wasn't really your uncle, but a man who served with your father and took you in at eighteen), were threats to Hydra. 

Which meant the only reason for Hydra to attack you was James. He stiffened in his seat next to you, already feeling guilty about the attack. 

Apparently sensing his friend’s distress, Steve looked at James. “Don’t worry, we’re going to find whoever sent those men and stop them.”

Steve frowned when James didn’t say anything. He looked to you for a second, wondering if you could get his friend to speak, but your eyes were fixed on the file in front of Maria. He glanced at Maria and nodded, silently telling her to continue.

“We’re still hoping for more information from the prisoners, but in the meantime, we’re sending out someone to gather intel from the base of operations these men were stationed at.” 

“Hope it’s not Sam.” You muttered under your breath, unaware that either the Super Soldier serum enhanced hearing or Steve just had naturally good hearing. He snickered, “Don’t worry, we’re sending the Black Widow.” 

You nodded, though it meant nothing to you.

Maria cleared her throat, “Do you have any other concerns?”

Actually you did, though it was a bit awkward. “Uhm, I mean, not to sound ungrateful or anything, but I don’t suppose you can wrap all this up by Monday?” Considering it was Friday, three sets of eyes looked at you in bewilderment. You cleared your throat, “It’s just, I gotta work you know? And my lease is up at the end of the month and I was in the middle of moving. And I gotta deal with my door. And my shit prolly got stolen. It was all boxed up and ready for someone to just take…” 

You trailed off more than slightly embarrassed. James hid a small smirk, though it fell when he looked back at the others. Maria coughed, “We’ll talk to your boss and have someone repair the apartment. As for your ahem, shit,” she mumbled and looked down, before clearing her voice and looking back at you, “If it’s gone, we can’t do much, but is there anything in particular you would like back, if at all possible?”

“My phone.” There were pictures saved on your phone that you hadn’t had a chance to download yet. “And my laptop.” You added as an afterthought. “Everything else is kinda replaceable.” 

She nodded and made a note before ending the meeting. Steve offered to take you and James— Bucky as he called him— to get something to eat for breakfast. You accepted quickly, not having eaten in over twenty four hours. You saw the other two women moving and heard quiet whispers but the prospect of food had you willing to follow Steve to quickly to worry about what they were doing.

It was Natasha’s voice that stopped you and James, Steve pausing at the door. Natasha held the picture of your father out to you. “Would you like to keep this?” 

He was so young in the picture, younger than you were. Only nineteen years old, having joined the Marines just out of high school. Of course you’d seen it before, you grew up looking at the picture whenever you entered the small apartment your mother had. But you left home at eighteen; the relationship between you and your mother was strained ever since your father died. 

You looked up at her, holding tears back, and nodded, mumbling a quiet “Yes.” 

She smiled gently and handed the picture to you, “Thank you.” You whispered, unable to stop a few tears from springing from your eyes, though you were quick to wipe them away. Natasha nodded and walked away, catching up to Steve.

“I like her. She’s cool.” You said to James, trying to get control of the waver in your voice as you looked at the picture in your hand. 

Natasha smiled to herself, neither Steve or Maria saw it, when she heard your words.


	33. July 8th: The Avengers Tower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, thank you everyone for the lovely comments and for all the kudos! Sorry about the wait, hit some writers block and then other characters besides Bucky started fighting for space in my mind.

You sat awkwardly at James’ left, again, so close that his hand was resting on your knee. The upper floors of the tower were much more residential, and while there was a common cafeteria, Steve figured Bucky would feel more comfortable here. He was probably right. No one sat to your left, Sam looked like he was going to pull the chair for a moment, but James sent him such a glare that Sam immediately sat across from you instead. Steve sat directly in front of James and Natasha sat at the end of the table. 

After a few silent seconds you gave in first and started piling your plate with chicken, pasta, and some steamed vegetables. The others followed suit after you had strangely enough served James, giving him a stern look. 

Sam was the first one to break the silence, which you would have been glad for if he had only asked a different question. “So, how long have you two been together?”

Steve and Natasha looked torn between rolling their eyes at Sam and wanting to ask the same question. James balled his right hand in a fist and glared at Sam while you balked at the question. “T-together? We’re not uh...I mean, we’re uh, we’re friends.” 

All three of them looked at you surprised. Your gaze dropped down to your plate as you fidgeted, blood burning your face, ears and even pricking down your neck. James on the other hand sat stiffly, his right hand still balled up into a knuckle whitening fist, glaring at anyone who looked at him. 

Natasha cleared her throat and stood up, “Well boys and Y/N, I’ve got a recon mission to get to.” She glanced at you, “Good luck.” And she was gone.

You weren't quite sure what she was wishing you luck with, but you’d given her a meek nod in response. You cleared your throat and refused to look at James, afraid of what his own reaction to Sam’s question was, “She’s Black Widow?”

Thankfully that turned the rest of the conversation towards who else you and James were expected to meet at the tower. 

After the dishes were cleared, Sam excused himself on a thin excuse about having a meeting of some sort. Beside you, you felt James relax slightly once Sam was out of sight and while you weren’t too eager to hang out with Sam (hey, he _was_ the one who led Hydra to you), you weren’t too thrilled to see him leave. Now it was just you, James and Captain Rogers. Of course you were comfortable with James (more than actually), but Steve’s presence just changed things somehow.

Steve suggested moving to the living room, a very wide open space with plenty of seating and probably the fanciest television you’d ever seen. It wasn’t obnoxiously large, but rather it fit well with the room, allowing people to either gather around it for whatever reason or to simply gather and talk to each other. Apparently, that second option is what Steve thought was going to happen. He’d taken a spot on a loveseat to the right of the large couch that you and James had taken. You were, of course, sitting at James’ left again. 

Steve and James likely wanted to talk, so you tried your best to efface yourself; cuddling so close to James that Steve probably couldn’t even see your face. Things weren’t going well though, as every time Steve tried to get James’ attention, he’d start his sentence with “Bucky”. And every time he said that, you felt James tense, it got to the point where you felt like you were cuddling with a tree. 

“I’m kinda thirsty. And Dr. Cho said I should drink a lot of liquids.” You said after the fourth (or fifth?) silence hung in the air too long. “Mind showing me where I can grab something to drink, Steve?” 

Steve nodded and stood up, “Of course.” 

You smiled and when James moved to stand up with you, you pressed a hand to his knee. “You can stay here, I’ll bring you back some water.” 

James furrowed his brows like he was about to protest, but to stop him from saying anything you acted quickly: you pressed your lips to his cheek, giving him a quick peck and a giggle. His eyes widened a fraction and his muscles, which were so tense before unwound in pure surprise as he leaned back a little. “W-what?” He asked.

You got up and followed Steve, rubbing a hand on your lips, “Nothing, your beard just tickled. Be right back.” 

Fighting your blush, you caught up with Steve in the kitchen you’d seen earlier when you were eating lunch. He had already grabbed three bottles of water and set them on the counter, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. You weren’t sure if he was questioning your friendship with James or if he’d understood that you wanted to talk to him privately. 

“Chill out with bringing up the past so much.” You decided to be direct. If you were away too long, James was likely to come looking for you.

Steve narrowed his eyes and squared his shoulders, like your words not only offended him but hurt him. “I don’t think you understand—”

You held up a hand. “I know you guys were best friends in the 40’s. But do you really think he’s the same man you knew?” You didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but at this rate he was going to push James away even more. “You know, it took a life threatening situation for me to even learn his name.” 

Steve blinked, “What?”

You nodded, “Yea, I’ll tell you the story later, or maybe you can get him to tell it. Whatever. But my point is, take it slow. Like, we’re sitting in a room with a nice TV and it ain’t even on. He likes dinosaurs, put on a dinosaur show or something.” As ridiculous as that sounded, you hoped he at least got the picture.

“Dinosaurs?”

“Yea, who doesn’t like dinosaurs? Isn’t this a Stark tower? You telling me Stark doesn’t have like Discovery channel or History channel or whatever on demand?”

Steve nodded slowly, as if he didn’t know whether or not to take your advice seriously. “Dinosaurs. Alright. I’m trusting you on this.”

With a shrug you grabbed two bottles of water, “Hey, at least it’ll cover those super awkward silences.” 

As you sat next to James again, he glanced at you and quickly looked away. If you hadn’t spent so much time with him, you wouldn’t have noticed the light dusting of pink on his cheeks. The blush was mostly hidden by his short beard, but still seeing him blush made your face heat up as well. Thankfully Steve suggested watching some TV and sure enough he found a documentary on prehistoric animals. Soon the narrator had you nodding off. As interesting, impressive and frightening as the Sarcosuchus was, 3D renditions of a giant crocodile weren’t enough to keep you from falling asleep while leaning against James.

James looked at you, your face pressed against his metal arm in a way that didn’t look very comfortable. He grinned to himself, he knew you wouldn’t want people to see you like that, but you trusted him enough to let down your guard entirely. Shifting slightly, he pulled his arm from your grasp and wrapped it around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

Steve watched Bucky curiously. When Sam first arrived with Bucky, with you in his arms, the man was too concerned to spend much time with Steve. Not that he could blame him, even if the two of were just friends, your life was in danger. But when Bucky didn’t go to him when Dr. Cho cleared you, Steve began to worry. He thought he had his friend back, but, did he? 

“Bucky?” He asked softly, not wanting to wake you up. 

Bucky looked away from you, the small smile that had been on his lips fell as he looked at Steve with a face of neutrality.

“Do you remember me?” Steve asked, almost despondent.

Bucky’s brow twitched as he tried to keep his mind from being overwhelmed. Unintentionally he looked away from Steve to you, his left hand moving to touch your hair softly. He nodded once, however, and looked back at Steve. “The bridge…”

Steve felt his heart sink. Bucky remembered the fight in D.C. …

“I had to save you.” Bucky finished, looking down at his feet, if it hadn’t been for the fact that he was holding you, then he would be leaning his elbows on his knees. But even confused, he knew he didn’t want to disturb you.

“From the wreckage in the water?” Steve asked, just as confused, worried about the fact that Bucky wasn’t making eye contact.

Bucky shook his head, “No, you punk. You were always getting into fights with guys twice your size.”

Steve looked at Bucky shocked, then a smile spread across his face; he wanted to say something back, to call him a jerk like he always used to. But for some reason he couldn’t form a reply, he could only chuckle. That is, until Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose with his right hand and shut his eyes tightly. 

“I’ve tried to remember more, but, when I try to I also remember,” Bucky’s jaw clenched as he winced. Unconsciously he tightened his hold on you and you jolted awake, he immediately pulled his arm back.

You took in a sharp breath through your nose, “Five!” You mumbled, blinking your vision clear.

Two sets of eyes looked at you confused. James smiled, trying to hold in a chuckle, “What?”

You blinked at him and repeated his own question. “What?”

“You said five.” 

Steve noticed the slight and familiar lilt in Bucky’s voice as he teased you. Whatever your relationship was, it was apparently good for Bucky. He understood now why Bucky was attached to you. Unlike him, you had no part in Bucky’s past, as the man he was in the 40’s or as the Winter Soldier. Bucky _did_ remember him, but the memories were jumbled up with what memories he had as the Winter Soldier. Likely even his last mission: To kill Steve. He knew it wouldn’t be easy but he now had hope, again, that he could have his friend back. 

“What? No I didn’t.” You tried to play off that you hadn’t fallen asleep while James grinned at you. 

Seeing how this might go on for longer than he wanted to watch, Steve cleared his throat, making both you and Bucky tense just slightly, like you’d forgotten all about his presence. Steve had to agree with Sam. Even if the two of you weren’t a couple, you sure acted like it. 

 

*

You sighed as you climbed into your bed for the night. After convincing Steve to reintroduce himself to James slowly, he offered to show you and James around the tower. You were grateful for that, since you didn’t know how long you’d have to stay here. After a few days, at the most, you would certainly throw out caution and explore the place, at least this way you knew what was off limits. Not much was, actually, but you did remember not to visit a few floors or rooms just so you’d avoid awkward situations. 

After about an hour of tossing and turning you were about to give up trying to sleep and find a snack, but there’s a quiet knock at your door. Softly James calleed your name from the other side of the door and you turned on the small lamp on your bedside table before opening the door.

As soon as you open the door you’re met with his bare chest, you begin to feel a small blush rise to your face but when you notice how many scars litter his chest, it fades. How many of those scars were because of what he had been through as the Winter Soldier? How many happened after he escaped Hydra? Like the on his lower right side that you partly familiar with. Hoping that he didn’t notice your staring, you looked up at him and raised a brow. Between your parting for the night and now, he'd shaved. You meant to ask about his clean shaven face, but he interpreted your questioning look as you asking him what he was doing there.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “I couldn’t sleep.”

You smiled and answer him as you step aside to let him in, “Me neither.” 

The two of you take a seat on your bed but say nothing. It isn’t an awkward silence, you both know that just being in each other's presence is calming. But eventually, he speaks first. “I couldn’t sleep without knowing you were safe.” He admits solemnly.

“Oh good, I couldn’t sleep without knowing I was safe either.” You laughed at your own joke.

James rolled his eyes, “Punk,” and ruffled your hair. 

You laughed again, leaning into him and resting your head against his bare shoulder. He stopped ruffling your hair and left his arm draped around your shoulder. Another silence passed before you reached your hand up to his abdomen, lightly tracing the faint scar on his right side. He took in a sharp breath and grabbed your wrist, “Tickles.” 

“I’m surprised it healed that well,” you said, pulling your hand back and resting it on your lap. “I mean, I pretty much just slapped a bandaid on it.” 

James looked at you, you were still staring at the scar on his chest, not with disgust, you didn’t shiver at the sight of the hideous scars. You just looked particularly curious about the one scar. He nodded, “Super soldier.” 

You looked up at him, “Huh, oh yea. Well, good thing then. Otherwise I don’t think I would have been any help at all.” You admitted with a sheepish smile, which he found himself returning.

Your smile faded and as you looked down again, “I never asked...can I?”

James furrowed his brows in confusion, “Ask what?”

“What happened?” You answered, looking at the scar again.

He licked his lips and sighed, “Sometimes...I used to get confused. I would see, Hydra, things from the 40’s, Steve…Some men caught me when I wasn’t lucid…”

You frowned and bit your bottom lip, “Did you...?” You couldn’t bring yourself to ask if he killed them.

He shook his head, you felt it more than saw it, “I left them alive. The beating actually brought me back to reality. Then I went for help.” 

This time when you touched the scar, he didn’t stop you. Nor did he stop you when your hand moved to the other scars. Not even when you touched the angry scar that never healed right, the one on his left shoulder. He just watched you, the curiosity, the emotion in your eyes. He felt his heart rate rise as he thought he knew just what emotion he saw. It was the same way he looked at you, the same reason why Sam and the others thought you were a couple.

Finally you looked at him and smiled, “Thank you...” 

Was it him or did you hesitate? He blinked, getting his heart rate under control again, “For what?”

“For trusting me.” 

He reached out and took your right hand in his and brought it up to his lips, placing a light kiss on your knuckles. “I should be saying that to you, doll.” 

Immediately you looked away from him, hair falling in front of your face as you tried to hide a blush. He didn’t have to see your face darken to know that you were in fact blushing, he could feel your pulse quicken as he held you hand. It excited him to know that you felt the same way about him, even if neither of you were quite ready to admit it. He leaned towards you, his nose brushing against your temple. 

You cleared your throat and pulled away from him, trying to get your blush under control. “One, one more question.”

“Hm?” He smirked, knowing that when you started repeating words that you were flustered. As if he couldn’t tell already. 

“What, what should I call you?” 

You still wouldn’t look at him. He didn’t like that. You trusted him didn't you? But then your question...it made it sound like you didn't know him at all. He frowned and sat up straight again, “What do you mean?”

“Well, Steve and everyone else calls you Bucky. Steve said that back in the 40’s you didn’t like it when people called you James. Only your mother did...Should I start calling you Bucky?” 

He was silent as he contemplated his answer. He had to admit, this wasn’t something that he’d thought of. He felt so comfortable, he felt like himself, when he was around you no matter what you called him. “What do you want to call me?” 

“I think, I like being the only one to call you James.” You answered shyly, 

His nodded once, “Good.” He had to admit, he liked that too. 

“We should get some sleep.” You said quickly to try to cover up the strange silence, it wasn’t quite awkward, but still wasn’t the calm atmosphere that you were used to. 

James smirked and nodded when you asked him to turn off the light as you climbed under your covers.

“G'night James,” You mumbled, snuggling into your pillow. 

The lights went out and you stiffened when you felt your bed shift. James had climbed into bed with you, “G'night Y/N.” 

Though the bed was small, he wasn’t touching you. Carefully you turned to your other side, “What’re you doing?”  
“Tryna sleep.” He answered, not even bothering to look at you. 

You smiled and turned back around, falling asleep easier than you had in a long time.

**  
You were jolted awake a few hours later by panicked knocking at the door. You groaned, and heard another beside you, as you looked at the door.

Steve called your name twice, “Do you know where Bucky is? I tried his room, he’s not there.” His voice, though muffled through the door, is loud. 

You sigh and lay back down, pushing James a little, “He’s looking for you, you answer it.”

Steve calls your name again and you feel James get out of bed, light floods into the room for a moment before the door closed again. You’re partly thankful that James decided to take the conversation in the hall, partly curious as to what this too early morning emergency was.

A few minutes later James climbed back into bed, settling down rather fast. “What’d he want?” You ask, voice husky from sleep but you would never go back to sleep curious. 

“Run.” 

You yawned and scrunch your face in confusion, “What?” 

“He wanted to know if I wanted to run with him.” 

Oh that makes sense. You propped yourself up on your elbow and looked over James at the small alarm clock on the bedside table. 5:11 AM. Yea, that made sense, of course Captain America jogged early in the morning. You dropped down back on your pillow, this time facing James, who is laying on his back with his eyes closed.

“You didn’t want to?”

He cracked one eye open and looked at you, brow raised. 

“I mean, didn’t you like spending time with Steve yesterday?” After the initial awkwardness, you felt that the two of them were starting to get along rather well, even made some weird 40’s jokes that you didn’t really understand. 

But he was worried about leaving you. You sighed and nudged him again, “Go, you know you wanna.”

Even though the early morning light was dim, you could still see the frown he had on his face. He wasn’t frowning at you, but rather he looked conflicted. “I swear, I’ll be right here when you get back. I’ll prolly still be asleep. But if you don’t wanna go, stop thinking so loud.” 

You smiled at the playful glare he sent you and turned back onto your side. 5 AM was an ungodly hour and you were going back to sleep whether he wanted to run with Steve or not. Not a minute later he got out of bed again, you heard some shuffling before he rested his right hand on your shoulder, silently telling you that he was leaving. 

“Good, you was taking up all the space on my bed,” you muttered and stretched out to prove your point. He chuckled and left, being sure to lock the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrapping things up and moving towards the end!


End file.
